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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26370871">The World Will Never Take My Heart (Carry On)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wenwen/pseuds/wenwen'>wenwen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Crew as Family, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Team as Family, Tragedy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:21:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>20,001</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26370871</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wenwen/pseuds/wenwen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The steady drum of rain on the roof let up bit by bit, and through the water-splattered glass windows behind the Girl, Ghoul could see a hint of orange at the very edges of the sky.  It was nearly morning, and for some reason, she felt like if they could only make it through the night, the worst of it would be over.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fun Ghoul &amp; Jet Star &amp; Kobra Kid &amp; Motorbaby &amp; Party Poison (Danger Days)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The World Will Never Take My Heart (Carry On)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for High AF for winning fandom jeopardy at the discord server prom.  Love you &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Sweat beaded up on her forehead as she shifted under the harsh sun.  It slid under her domino mask and stung her eyes, but she kept her focus on the delicate wire-work under her hands.</p><p>The crunch of boots over sand warned her of impending company.  “How much longer?” </p><p>She gritted her teeth.  “Quiet,” she snapped.  “This one’s tricky.”</p><p>Party Poison sat back on their heels, but she knew without looking that their eyes were fixed on the looming grey buildings beyond the fence, not on her.   They were in mission mode now, hyper-fixated on their goal and the battle that was sure to precede it.  </p><p>The faint whine of electricity cut off.  “Disarmed,” she announced, closing the metal lid of the keypad with a snap, and Poison slapped her on the shoulder.  </p><p>Poison gave her a smile, a little fierce and entirely feral.  “Here we go,” they said, reaching fearlessly for the previously electrified fence and pulling it open.  She scrambled to pull her ray gun from its holster, and with its familiar weight in her hand, followed.  </p><p>She chased them across the cracked tarmac, her heart thundering in her ears as she ran.  A patrolling Drac rounded the corner, and Poison shot it square between the eyes without breaking their stride.  They reached the door before her and hauled it open, and she got her ray gun up just in time to nail the Drac on the other side.  </p><p>“Go, go!” urged Poison, shooting a glance over their shoulder as the compound alarm went off with a wailing siren. “Five minutes and this place’ll be overrun.”</p><p>She darted inside without hesitation, and the door clanged shut behind her.  It was thick enough that she couldn’t hear Poison’s footsteps as they sprinted for the next building over.  She wasn’t worried.  Poison was the better shot, and their jacket would take the worst of the blast if they did get hit.</p><p>The inside of this building was dim and shadowy, and she paused a moment for her eyes to adjust to the lower light before creeping forward.  She holstered her ray gun and drew a knife instead.  There shouldn’t have been any more guards in this building -- in terms of storage, this one was more for overflow, an afterthought for those that didn’t fit in the main warehouse.  </p><p>Steel cabinets lined the walls, with metal shelves running down the middle containing smaller chemical storage lockers.  She started at the closest wall, slamming the hilt of her knife against the first lock until the metal dented and gave way.  She tossed the broken lock to the ground, pulled open the cabinet door to glance over its contents, and then moved on to the next.  </p><p>The labels on the bottles she only vaguely recognized -- names like <em> pyruvate </em> and <em> ammonia </em> and <em> shikimic acid, </em>but in the third cabinet she found what she was looking for: acetic acid.  She went through the rest of the cabinets hurriedly, until she had found half a dozen containers.  She hefted the closest with both hands, braced herself, and hurled it against the far wall.  It shattered, sending glass and liquid flying as she ducked behind the shelves for cover.  She picked up the next, and then the next, and then the next, until she was surrounded by broken glass and puddles of the acid stuff. </p><p>Everything in this storage shed was the stuff BL/ind shipped into Bat City, that they used to make the pills that kept its inhabitants compliant and complacent, and acetic acid specifically was the support thing.  Or the alkylating thing.  Or maybe the activating thing.    </p><p>One of those.  Whatever.  That was Jet Star’s area.  All she needed to know was that it would go boom if she lit it up.  And that there was a very specific number of canisters she was allowed to blow up so the blast wouldn’t catch the Fabulous Four in their getaway.  </p><p>The burn of the chemicals stung her nose, and she breathed shallowly as she wrapped a bandana around her mouth and nose.  She swung her backpack off, fingers slipping off the zipper in her urgency.  She yanked it open, fumbled the IED out and onto the nearest shelf.  One minute countdown -- she plugged in the wires with a surety bought with endless practice, flipped the switch, and as the number on the readout blinked to 00:59, ran for the door, her boots splashing through the chemical puddles.   </p><p>She slammed outside, straight into a firefight, and just in time to see the Trans Am crash through the remains of the chain link fence.  Jet Star, their face set in a stony mask, climbed halfway out the window with ray gun in hand and opened fire on the Dracs pinning her in.  “Fun Ghoul, come on!” they barked.</p><p>Party Poison whooped from across the yard, in a full-out sprint from the pack of Dracs that pursued them.  Even running, their aim was impeccable -- one shot, one hit to clear the ones blocking their path.  </p><p>Ghoul ran for it, firing blindly over her shoulder.  The back door of the Trans Am popped open, and she grabbed the handle, swinging herself around and into the backseat.  The Girl flashed her a bright smile before scrambling to shove open the other door.  Seconds later, Poison dove in to sandwich the Girl on the other side of the backseat, and as they slammed the door shut, shouted, “Drive!”</p><p>Kobra Kid slammed his foot on the gas pedal, and with a screech of burning rubber, swung the car around and sent them hurtling for the hole in the fence.  Jet Star, one hand with a death grip on the grab handle, twisted around to fire at the burgeoning pursuit party behind them.  </p><p>Party Poison swung their bulging backpack off, dropping it into the Girl’s lap and flashing her a wink at her winded <em> oof.  </em>They checked their ray gun and rolled down their window, sticking their head out recklessly.</p><p>“Don’t do that,” Ghoul snapped, reaching across the Girl to yank them back.  “Kobra, <em> drive.  </em>It goes up in thirty seconds.”  </p><p>“Aw, sugar.  Look at Jet,” Poison pointed out, but subsided to their seat.  </p><p>“I trust Jet,” she retorted, and ignored their offended huff.  At least Jet wasn’t likely to throw themself out of the car at a Drac on a motorcycle when the entire outpost was about to explode.  Actually, that was more Fun Ghoul’s thing, now that she thought about it.</p><p>The ground rumbled and the Trans Am lurched as behind them the storage facility lit up in a brilliant blast that sent a massive fireball skyward.  The blaze of overwhelming heat hit seconds later, and the car groaned beneath her as Kobra coaxed every last bit of speed out of its tired engine.  </p><p>Then it passed, and the five of them were racing away, free and clear, away from the still-burning pyre.</p><p>They all spilled into the old diner in a tangle, their voices overlapping as they rode the high of getting away clean.   Poison tossed their backpack onto the nearest table and hefted the Girl up onto their shoulders for a victory dance as she shrieked delightedly.</p><p>There was a smile curling on Ghoul's face as she watched the pair, dropping into the nearest seat and slumping against the backrest.  Party Poison never wavered, never tired, and that was good for them, but Ghoul didn't have that kind of boundless energy.  She'd prefer a nap since she hadn't really slept for the past three days, thanks, or at least some candy to stay awake.</p><p>Kobra skipped over to dance with his sibling and the Girl in a rare spurt of energy, and Poison dipped her down close to him so that she shrieked and clutched at his head before dissolving into peals of laughter.  Kobra flashed a grin at her, twirled, and leapt up on the nearest table in a single bound.  It wobbled under his feet.  Fun Ghoul very briefly considered saving him from his own idiocy, but in that moment he lost his balance and toppled off with a crash.  </p><p>"Oh no," said Party Poison with very little actual concern as their brother groaned dramatically, sprawled on the floor.  After a surprised pause, peering down from Poison's shoulders, the Girl exploded into giggles once again.</p><p>Jet, meanwhile, unclasped the buckle on Poison's backpack and upended the contents on the table.  Cans and packages tumbled out, and Ghoul watched with detached interest as they sorted through their spoils.  Jet Star glanced over at her.  "Trade dinner duty?" they suggested, without much hope.</p><p>"Nope," said Ghoul, propping her feet up on the next chair just because she could.  "Do you know how much running I did today?  I gotta rest."  Plus, Jet Star made the best food out of all of them, and she wasn't about to give up a treat like that after a mission.</p><p>Jet Star rolled their eyes with annoyed indulgence.  "Whatever," they said, scooping the foodstuff back into the backpack and stumped off towards the kitchen.</p><p>Ghoul let her eyes drift half-closed, staring out the smudged windows over the desert lit up in gold by the setting sun.  Life in the Zones wasn't easy and they were battling a titan that seemed untouchable at times, but here, with her missions and her friends and The Girl, she was content.  </p><p> </p><p>Fun Ghoul woke to the rumble of thunder overhead and the soft whimpers of the Girl across the room.  Groggily, she lifted her head and caught sight of Party Poison silhouetted against the orange glow filtering in from beneath the door.  They had the Girl half cradled in their lap, their hand rubbing slow circles on her back.  Kobra Kid still snored faintly in his bed roll, but Jet Star's was empty, the blankets tossed aside carelessly.</p><p>"What's going on?" Ghoul rasped, her voice still heavy with sleep. </p><p>Party Poison glanced up, but before they could say anything, the Girl mumbled, "I don't feel so good," tipped to the side, and threw up.</p><p>"Aw, girlie," Poison said, patting her back as she whined miserably.  "Let's get you cleaned up, huh?"</p><p>"I'll get the mop," Ghoul said, and followed them out as Poison carefully hefted the Girl into their arms.  </p><p>She found Jet Star in the kitchen, leaning up against the counter while a kettle boiled on the beat-up stove.  Only one of the burners worked like it was supposed to; another apparently never stopped heating up and most of the others didn't turn on at all.  Their eyes were glazed over, the dark circles prominent in a too-thin face.  After a moment, they blinked over at Ghoul.  "Apple-water," they explained, nodding at the mug waiting on the counter next to them.  "The Girl's sick."</p><p>She glanced in it, eyed the dried apple rings at the bottom.  "Dunno if she's up for drinking," she said.  "She just threw up.  Poison took her to the bathroom to wash up."</p><p>Jet Star made a dismayed face.  "She has to drink, then," they said, frowning.  "We were hoping it was just a little flu."</p><p>"Hm," said Ghoul, and made for the back of the kitchen and its battered collection of cleaning supplies.</p><p>Kobra Kid finally woke when she sloshed a cleaning liquid that smelled like someone had described a lemon to someone who had never tasted one before onto the floor.  She eyed him judgmentally and just a little resentfully as he sat up and squinted at her.  Only then did he seem to realize that there was no one else in the room.  "What time is it?" </p><p>"Don't know," said Fun Ghoul, short.  "The Girl's sick.  Poison's got her in the bathroom."</p><p>"Ah, shit," Kobra swore under his breath, lurching to his feet.  He stumbled out past her, narrowly avoiding stepping in the mess on the floor, and she heard his voice as he went.  "Poison?  Princess?  Hey, princess, how're ya holding up?" </p><p>The Girl croaked something in response, too quiet and too far away for Fun Ghoul to catch.  She did her best to ignore the hushed conversation in the bathroom in favour of mopping up the Girl’s sick.  </p><p>Poison and Kobra didn’t bring the Girl back to the backroom, where the chemical stench still hung in the air.  They carried her to the front of the diner instead, lay her down on one of the booths.  Ghoul, still stinking of the same chemical stench but much more faintly, brought her blankets and handed them to Kobra, who wrapped them tight around the Girl.  </p><p>The Girl’s face was flushed red, droplets of sweat already beading up on her forehead as she shivered uncontrollably.  She smelled faintly of vomit and stomach acid, and when Jet Star brought out the warm apple-water for her, she turned her head away and closed her eyes.  Jet Star’s frown deeped, and he perched on the table behind them in watchful vigil.</p><p>The storm raged above the diner.  Poison didn’t so much as glance up when the lights flickered or the thunder rumbled, but Kobra Kid flinched at the flash of lightning.  Jet Star got up wordlessly and went to change out the buckets collecting acid rain from the leaks in the roof.</p><p>Ghoul wasn’t really doing anything, wasn’t hovering over the Girl like the siblings or doing something functional like Jet Star, but for some reason, she didn’t feel like going back to sleep despite the fatigue that dragged at the edges of her mind.  She retreated to a chair, pulled her legs up to hug them to her chest, and rested her chin on her knees as the Girl sniffled and curled in on herself.</p><p>The steady drum of rain on the roof let up bit by bit, and through the water-splattered glass windows behind the Girl, Ghoul could see a hint of orange at the very edges of the sky.  It was nearly morning, and for some reason, she felt like if they could only make it through the night, the worst of it would be over. </p><p>“Hurts,” said the Girl, her voice breaking.</p><p>"Don't worry, sweetheart," Poison soothed, carding his fingers through the Girl's hair.  "Everything's going to be just fine."</p><p>But that was a lie, because when the sun breached the clouds, the Girl vomited blood.</p><p> </p><p>Party Poison drove this time, because while Kobra Kid was a great getaway driver, he didn't quite manage the Trans Am with the same ease as his sibling.  Ghoul claimed shotgun by glaring at the others, who bundled The Girl into the backseat with blankets and a bucket.</p><p>The drive over the desert was bumpy, but despite the Girl's piteous moans whenever they hit a particularly rough stretch, Poison didn't let up on the gas.  Ghoul gripped the handle on the inside of the door and prayed that the Girl wouldn't throw up again.</p><p>She did.  She vomited twice more before the familiar shape of Dr. Death Defying's shack appeared on the horizon.</p><p>Poison roared into the makeshift dirt lot and cut the engines.  "Bring her," they said curtly, and in the next second they were running for the doctor's front door. </p><p>The backseat had that covered.  Ghoul checked her ray gun because she would be a paranoid bastard until the day she died and followed Poison.  She didn't expect someone with bright crimson hair to be discreet, but she thought that pounding on the old man's door at the ass crack of dawn might've been a bit much.  "Doc!" Poison shouted, slamming his fist against the door.  It would have dented if it weren't plated with solid steel. "Hey, Dr. D!"</p><p>Poison wouldn’t calm down even if she told him to, so she didn’t bother.  Instead, she kept her eyes on the desert, past where Jet Star had the Girl draped in his arms and Kobra Kid was staring down at the barf bucket with dismay and confusion.  Dracs this far out weren’t likely, but she needed something to keep her mind off of how still and pale the Girl looked.</p><p>With a creak, Dr. D’s door cracked open, and the man glared out at them.  “Who’s dying?”  Poison physically recoiled, and the doctor looked them up and down quickly, then past them.  “Ah, shit,” he swore, and shoved the door the rest of the way open.  “Put her on the bed!” he called over his shoulder.  "You two, come with me."</p><p>Dr. D's place wasn't very large, and the inside was piled high with equipment and files.  Jet Star squeezed past them, Kobra on his heels, as the doctor thrust a box of medical-looking tools into Ghoul's hands.  They all crowded into Dr. D's spare room, empty save for a cot; Ghoul squeezed Kobra against the corner so the doctor could fit his wheelchair in.</p><p>"Everybody out," Dr. D ordered after two minutes of them breathing down each others' necks.  "I can't work with you lot in here.  Get."</p><p>"The doc knows what he's doing," Jet Star said once they had retreated to the front room.  "He'll get her fixed up."</p><p>Party Poison should have jumped to agree because as much as Jet was their steady support, Poison was the heart of their team, who kept them going when things seemed bleak.  But they didn't acknowledge Jet's words, instead staring out the window with their jaw set and tension in every line of their body.  And because Kobra Kid was Kobra Kid, Poison's silence unnerved him enough to shrink in on himself, worrying at his lip as he twisted his hands together and a glance at the room where the Girl lay every few seconds. </p><p>It was an eternity before the doctor wheeled himself back out, and when he did, Ghoul's heart plummeted.  That was the expression the man wore when he couldn't save an injured killjoy.</p><p>"She's got gastritis," said the doctor.</p><p>That meant absolutely nothing to Ghoul, but Jet Star said, "That's good, isn't it?  You can fix that no problem, doc."</p><p>But Dr. D shook his head.  "That's not all," he said, not unkindly.  "Just gastritis she'd kick it off easy with some meds, but the infection's spread.  It's in her blood, too.  It's sepsis now."</p><p>Sepsis.  Ghoul knew that one, had seen it happen once before.  She licked her lips and tried to swallow down the sudden dryness in her throat, but Kobra Kid spoke before she could, desperate and disbelieving.  "She's dying."</p><p>Dr. D nodded.</p><p>"So fix her," Poison interjected, but even though their fists were clenched, their eyes were begging.  "You've got meds and shit here.  There's gotta be something you can do, right?"</p><p>Dr. D sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face.  "What she needs, you won't find anywhere in the Zones," he said bluntly.  "The antibiotics I have on hand just aren't strong enough for her.  They won't work.  I'm sorry."</p><p>Ghoul cleared her throat.  "So how long does she have?"  The words hung heavy in the air, looming over the dust particles that danced in the sunlight streaming in through the cracks in the curtains.  The raw devastation on Kobra's face made her want to take the words back, to cram the question back into her throat, but she met Dr. D's gaze steadily.  </p><p>His eyes shadowed. "I’ve started her on an IV, so two days," answered the doc, calm but regretful.  "Maybe three."</p><p>"Fuck that," snapped Party Poison.  "She's just a kid, we're not going to let her die."  He launched himself out of his seat, pacing the narrow space between the table and the door.  "We can't find it anywhere in the Zones.  That means they have it in Bat City, right?"</p><p>Dr. D frowned.  "You can't be -- "</p><p>"So we go to Bat City," said Poison, ignoring the interruption.  "We're the best crew in the Zones.  We'll break in, get her the shit she needs to get better, and get out before they catch us."</p><p>"That's a suicide run, kid," the doc growled, crossing his arms over his chest.  "Tagging their buildings in the desert, breaching at the edges of the City -- that's nothing compared to breaking into a highly guarded pharmaceutical plant."</p><p>"We can do it," Poison tossed back, their eyes already bright with challenge and rekindled hope.  “Whatever it is that we need to save the Girl.  It’s there, right?  What’s it called and where can we find it?”</p><p>Dr. D stared them down, but Poison didn’t blink.  Finally, the doc blew out a short, hard breath.  “Meropenem, cefepime, vancomycin,” he listed.  “She’ll need those.  Even with them she might not make it.  She’ll need constant treatment to keep her stable -- two days is generous without the stronger antibiotics.”</p><p>Party dug out the maps. </p><p>None of the Four had been born killjoys.  They'd all lived in Bat City at one point, so even though the memories grew foggier with the passing years, Ghoul could still visualize the buildings on the crude map, could see in her mind’s eye the path that the four of them would take --</p><p>“Four?  Three of you are going,” interrupted the doc.</p><p>Party Poison paused.  Ghoul and Jet Star traded glances.  “What the fuck does that mean?” Poison demanded.</p><p>“Show Pony won't be back until next week, and I can’t stay awake forever,” said Dr. D, leaning back in his wheelchair.  “The Girl needs round-the-clock monitoring.  One of you has to stay behind.”</p><p>Party Poison was going -- that much wasn’t a question.  Fun Ghoul was their munitions expert, and she was going too if there were places to break into quietly.  </p><p>“I’ll stay,” said Jet Star, unfazed by the looks he got from the rest of the crew.  “I know more about this medical thing than the rest of you put together.  It makes sense.”</p><p>That was true.  The rest of them were about as useful as a boat in the desert when it came to patching up anything that needed more than a bandage.</p><p>Going without Jet on a mission, especially one this difficult, this important -- that felt weird.  Unsettling.  But so would going without Kobra Kid.  Ghoul ran her fingers through her tangled hair and mentally took stock.  She had her kit in the trunk of the Trans Am, and Dr. D wouldn’t mind if she borrowed a couple things.  She had her ray gun, of course, and a couple of knives.  She didn't need anything else.</p><p>Poison pushed themself away from the table, standing.  “We should say ‘bye before we go,” they said.  <em> Just in case, </em>they didn’t say.  Ghoul followed them and Kobra as they made their way back to the room where the Girl lay.</p><p>The Girl’s eyes were half-closed, but she opened them again as they hovered at the door.  She’d been so bright and energetic the day before -- Ghoul couldn’t believe that was the same girl as the one in front of her now, who was bundled in blankets, dwarfed by the cot, with a needle in her arm and a tube feeding from a bag of clear fluid.  She looked listless, colourless, more like a ghost than a person.  </p><p>“Hey, darling,” said Poison softly, one hand cradling the side of the Girl’s face.  “We’re gonna go get you some medicine.  You just rest, huh?”</p><p>The Girl struggled, flailing her arms weakly to disentangle herself from the sheets and grab at their sleeve.  They caught her arm, mindful of the IV in the crook of her elbow.  “No,” she whined.  “No, don’t go.  Don’t leave!”</p><p>“Sweetheart, we have to,” said Kobra Kid, kneeling on the other side of her cot.  “We gotta get the meds so you can feel better.”</p><p>But the Girl wouldn’t be consoled, clutching Poison’s sleeve until she tired herself out and fell asleep, her hand falling back to the bed, limp.  Ghoul, unable to stomach the open heartbreak in Poison’s eyes, turned away.  She had to grab her shit and prep a couple bombs, just in case.  It was going to be a long day.  </p><p> </p><p>Breaching Battery City wasn't easy on a good day, even with lots of planning and no real deadline.  They didn't have that luxury now.</p><p>Poison drove.  Their hands gripped the steering wheel tight enough that their knuckles turned white and the leather creaked in protest beneath their fingers. </p><p>Fun Ghoul drummed her fingers against her thigh absently as she stared out at the desert whipping past.  On a regular mission, she'd be twiddling with the radio knob even if only to listen to static, or talking a million miles an hour about how Kobra's helmet should come with its own wipers or how Jet Star should upgrade their ray gun or ragging on Poison's sad attempts at cooking.  Her energy was contained now, if barely; if she didn't get something or someone to hit soon, she'd be bouncing all over the place.</p><p>They left the Trans Am and breached on the west side of Bat City, through a sewer grate that Fun Ghoul was unfortunately small enough to fit through and Jet Star probably wouldn’t have been able to.  Kobra Kid took off his jacket and his helmet and still needed Ghoul and Party to pull him through from the other side.  If they were on any other mission, she'd have cracked a joke about it, but now all three of them were grim and filthy.  The exit would be faster and a hell of a lot louder, but the breach needed to be quiet. </p><p>Adrenaline seeped into her veins as they made their way deeper into the city.  Instead of a rush, though, all she could feel was mounting unease.  It was never safe here, and if they failed here, they would lose everything.</p><p>Party Poison led the way, steering them through back alleys at times, across rooftops at others, and into mostly dry sewers.  Ghosts drifted through the streets unawares of their passing -- the shells of the people BL/ind kept placid like sheep in their enclosure.  Above them all, the sentry Draculoids perched on parapets or stood on the streets like statues, ray guns at the ready and their stupid white masks grinning emptily at the uncaring crowds.   </p><p>Their path took them away from the surface, deeper into the guts of the city, where the air was cool and damp and stank of piss and sewage.  The maintenance lights grew further and further apart, flickering more and more the deeper they went.  "Here," said Poison under their breath, and beckoned Fun Ghoul forward with a jerk of their head.  "We get in to the factory here."</p><p>Fun Ghoul shuffled forward, squinting at the keypad.  In was in pretty bad shape considering that this was one of BL/ind's most important factories, but she supposed that the access hatch to the sewer system in the fifth sub-basement of the west side wasn't anyone's top priority.   She popped the back of the metal casing and squished herself up under it with a flashlight between her teeth.  Standard system, nothing fancy, not a lot of fun but easy to bypass.  The hatch unlocked with a harsh mechanical click.  Fun Ghoul stowed her tools, and Kobra Kid flashed her a thumbs up as he followed Party in.</p><p>The sub-basement was gloomy, moldy, and had pretty much nothing except a metal staircase to the second level, which had a door to the exit.  Fun Ghoul wrinkled her nose as she picked her way through.  Poison hit the stairs first, and their boots clattered against the metal as they climbed. </p><p>"You go first," said Kobra Kid to Ghoul.  "I'll keep watch, just in case."</p><p>Fun Ghoul followed Party Poison for the tightly spiralling stairs.  At the top, Party edged forward towards the door, ray gun at the ready, and Ghoul paused to lean over the railing.  "Come on, we're up," she called down to Kobra.</p><p>Instead of taking the stairs, Kobra Kid leapt up easily, rebounding off the wall, and grabbed the edge of the railing.  He hauled himself up and used one hand to vault over the railing in a very flashy flip.  </p><p>Fun Ghoul stared.  It was easily fifteen feet from the bottom to the top.</p><p>“Gravity,” said Kobra Kid with a one-sided shrug.  “Don’t mean too much to me.”</p><p>Fun Ghoul snorted and graciously didn't mention that just the day before he'd fallen off one of the diner tables.  "Yeah, all right, hotshot.  Float on in, then," she said, and waved him into the next hallway with a flourish.  </p><p>Party was waiting in the shadows of the next hall.  "Here's where we split up," they said.  "Ghoulie, be safe.  Kobra, don't do anything dumb."</p><p>"Hey," Kobra Kid complained.</p><p>Fun Ghoul flashed them both a wicked grin.  "Catch you two on the flip side," she said, and darted off down the hallway.  </p><p>If this mission had any sort of fun aspect to it, Fun Ghoul got to do it.  Being distracting?  Yes.  Taunting BL/ind and the Dracs?  Double yes.  Exploding things?  Bigger yes.  The others had to do serious things like hacking the security system and figuring out which drugs to nick, but she was going to make art.</p><p>All the hallways looked the same.  White paint, scuffed and peeling in places.  Fluorescent lighting, harsh and unforgiving.  Nice steel accents or concrete everywhere else.  Fun Ghoul had a backpack full of explosives that would give this place the makeover it needed.  </p><p>Even Bat City needed to sleep.  It was the twilight hours now, and the usual racket of heavy machinery in this plant had died down to a low hum.  They didn’t have many guards posted.  Why would they?  Everyone in the city was so compliant.  They wanted for nothing.</p><p>Except, like, a life.  </p><p>Fun Ghoul's target was the place where they put all the little pills in different little bottles because she could make a mess there without accidentally blowing the entire block sky high.  The hallways were conveniently labelled in no-nonsense black lettering, and she hummed as she wove her way through the factory complex.  Nothing to see here.  Just an innocent killjoy wearing bright yellow planting explosives like little wall decorations.  </p><p>At the sound of footsteps, she slipped behind a pillar, held her breath as a pair of Dracs passed by without a second glance.  She peeked out, and as soon as they were gone, went back to wiring the detonator onto the machine that spit out empty bottles.  She set the button on the timer, stepped back, and brushed off her hands.  Then she went to find the others.  </p><p>She went carefully, keeping to the walls and hallways that had cover in case she got ambushed, but she didn’t encounter any other Dracs -- the factory was all but empty.  </p><p>Easy.  Job well done.  Who said this would be hard?</p><p>Five minutes later, Fun Ghoul rounded the corner, shoved open the double doors to the rendezvous point with a flourish, and then everything went to shit.</p><p>The siren went off overhead, a wailing whoop accompanied by flashing red lights.  She whirled.  On the other side of the window, Party Poison and Kobra Kid were flat out sprinting across the scaffolding bridging the echoing machinery room.  Dracs poured after them from the doors and stairwells, spilling in on the ground floor with ray guns raised and tracking the siblings.  </p><p>Doors behind her slammed, followed by the thunder of a lot of approaching boots, and Fun Ghoul cursed, lurching forward into the machinery room.  “Hey, what the fuck?” she yelled across at the two siblings.  </p><p>“We got the stuff.  Run first!” Party shouted back, ducking as a blast nearly took off their head.  They wore their backpack backwards against their chest, shielding it with their own body as they ran, and Kobra Kid paused to fire wildly behind them.  </p><p>Fun Ghoul drew her ray gun and sprinted to meet them.  She almost collided with Kobra Kid at the corner, just managing to squeeze under his arm as Party took the lead down the next scaffolding.  “We need to get out of here,” said Kobra Kid.</p><p>“No shit,” Poison shot back, eyes harried behind their domino mask.  “Follow me.  Keep them off my back.”</p><p>The cold spike of adrenaline lent Fun Ghoul extra speed as Party crashed through the next door.  In stark contrast to the room they’d just been in, this machine system was massive, housed in a room that spanned maybe ten stories all the way down to the basement, and lit only by the glow of low red lights.  She faltered, peering over the edge.  It was very far and very, very dark. </p><p>“What is this, a wrong turn?” demanded Fun Ghoul.  She hadn’t paid much attention to this part beside ‘get out of the factory’ and Party Poison saying that they had it handled.  </p><p>“No!” Party said, already halfway across to the other side.  “Keep up!”</p><p>“Anywhere is better than staying here,” said Kobra Kid, ray gun trained on the doorway they’d come through.  The thundering boots were growing louder, and possibly multiplying.  </p><p>He had a good point.  Doors burst open one by one, some on each level, spilling harsh lighting and swarms of Dracs into the shadows.  Blasts lit up the air around them and Fun Ghoul put her head down and ran blindly after Party.</p><p>Party Poison was always, inexplicably, a Drac magnet.  Maybe it was something about the hair, maybe this time because they were in the front, but just as they threw open the door to their hopefully-an-escape route, they were bombarded by a flurry of blasts from the squad coming out.  They covered their head, raised their ray gun, and charged forward like they were invincible.</p><p>Fun Ghoul rushed to help, picking off the Dracs over their shoulder, but behind her, Kobra Kid swore furiously.  She threw a glance back behind her in time to see the ray hit him in the shoulder.  A second caught him just under the collarbone, and he tipped over the railing from the force, his ray gun falling from his hand.  He grabbed desperately and caught the lowest bar with one arm, the rest of him dangling over the emptiness.</p><p>“Shit, Kobra Kid!”  Ghoul lurched back towards him instinctively, but a shot sizzled past her head and she scrambled for cover behind the nearest pillar.  “Hey!  Hang on!”</p><p>Kobra Kid’s neck tensed as he grimaced and he reached up with his other hand, but it was slick with blood and slid off the metal.  He dangled; his strength was faltering.  Fun Ghoul knew he couldn’t hold on for long.  She peered around the side of the pillar but jerked back, met by a shower of blasts.</p><p>She glanced over her shoulder wildly for Party Poison, but they were too far away, hemmed in on two sides and backed into the next narrow hallway.  “Shit,” she swore again.</p><p>“Save the Girl,” said Kobra Kid, strained. “That’s what we’re here for."</p><p>"Shut the fuck up," Ghoul barked at him.</p><p>Kobra ignored her.  "What’s that dumbass thing Poison likes to say?” he mused, and his voice went wry in a faint imitation of his usual grin.   “The aftermath is secondary.”  His fingers slipped.</p><p>Ghoul dove and grabbed for his hand.</p><p>She missed.</p><p>The flash of his red jacket and yellow helmet stood boldly out from the concrete and metal of the hell forsaken medicine factory, against the swarm of white-masked Dracs until he disappeared from sight.  She didn’t need to see him hit the bottom to know that no one could survive a fall like that.  </p><p>Ghoul rolled back under cover, her heart in her throat and her breath coming way too quick.  <em> Fucking Kobra Kid.  Fuck.  </em>What the fuck was she supposed to do now?  He didn’t scream.  He fucking plummeted to his fucking death, and he didn’t even fucking scream.</p><p>The ground rumbled under her, and the very air shook as the lights above flickered.  She remembered, dully, the explosives.  They'd gone off. </p><p>Someone grabbed her arm, and instinctively she jerked away, one hand going for her knife and the other raising her ray gun but it was just Party Poison, a trail of downed Dracs in their wake.  <em> Fuck.  </em>How was she supposed to tell them that she’d just let their brother die?</p><p>“Ghoul.  Fun Ghoul!” they shouted, giving her a rough shake when she could only stare at them mutely.  “Get up, we need to go!” </p><p>“Kobra Kid,” she rasped, unable to stop herself from glancing over the railing.  Fucking Kobra Kid.  Fuck.</p><p>"We have to go," Poison said.  "Now." </p><p>They didn't say, <em> he's gone. </em></p><p>They didn't say, <em> it's your fault. </em></p><p>They didn't say, <em> you let him die </em> or <em> you killed him. </em></p><p>They didn't need to.  Fun Ghoul already knew that.  And unless she moved, now, she was going to get Party Poison killed too.</p><p>She hauled herself to her feet and followed in Poison's wake as they bulldozed their way to the next hallway, and then the next, and then the next, through the city and its tunnels to the outer wall.  She could barely aim but with the Dracs crowded in so thick, she didn't need to.</p><p>Poison slammed their way out of the city first, sprinting for the Trans Am.  Fun Ghoul paused to jam the pipe between the handles to wedge the doors shut before bolting after them.  The Trans Am roared to life when she was still a few paces away and for a second, she thought Poison might leave her there at the mercy of the Dracs.</p><p>But the car only revved and in the next stride she flung open the door and threw herself in.</p><p>Poison spun them around, sending up a wave of sand beneath the spinning wheels, and floored it, and just like that, Battery City became just a blip in the rearview mirror. </p><p>If the drive to Bat City had been quiet, the return trip was twice as grim.  Neither of them spoke.  Ghoul was sure she didn't want them to.  The backpack with the precious medicine that they'd stolen for the Girl sat nestled between her ankles, but it weighed on her heavily like a loss instead of a victory. </p><p>When they pulled into Doc. D's yard, the silence was yet unbroken.   Poison reached over the central console to grab the backpack, slung it over their shoulder, and slammed the car door shut behind them.  </p><p>Ghoul scrambled to follow.  Party left the front door ajar when they entered, and she accepted that it was as much as an invitation as she would get. </p><p>Jet Star frowned when Ghoul closed the door behind her.  "What happened?" they asked, tracking Poison as they stalked towards them.  "Where's Kobra Kid?"</p><p>"Got ghosted," Poison said roughly, and shoved the backpack into Jet Star's hands as the other killjoy reeled back.  "Give that to the doc.  It's everything he asked for."  They brushed past them, past the towering bookshelves.  The back door slammed.</p><p>Jet Star looked at Fun Ghoul.  She turned away.  "I'm gonna crash," she muttered.  "Just get the Girl fixed up."</p><p>And if Jet Star noticed her silent, helpless sobs as she curled on Dr. D's ratty old couch, they didn't say.</p><p> </p><p>She surfaced as if through a fog, reluctantly and with a sense of dread.  Her jaw was stiff, her eyes puffy and raw, and even without checking she knew her hair was a mess.  </p><p>"She's asking for you."  It'd been Dr. D's voice that had dragged her up out of her sleep, but he was across the room.  Not talking to her. </p><p>"Yeah."  That was Party Poison, their voice rough and tired.  "Yeah, okay."  Their footsteps retreated to the Girl's room.</p><p>Fun Ghoul lay still for a moment longer and then peeled herself off the couch.  On silent feet, she slipped through the house to follow. </p><p>Dr. D's place had always been a familiar place, a constant even as the mess within shifted and reshuffled when the doc collected or broke or gave away things.  Now, she was hyper aware of every book stacked haphazardly on abandoned chairs, the radio parts that littered the floor like fallen leaves.  A floorboard creaked under her foot and she froze, mentally berating herself.  She'd known it was there, only forgotten about it.</p><p>But from there she could see until the Girl's room, could see Poison crouched next to her bed with her hand dwarfed in theirs, their voice low and soothing.  "You're gonna be just fine, now," they murmured, reaching up to brush her hair away from her forehead.  "Told ya we'd get it, didn't I?  Doc's gonna get you all right again."</p><p>"Where's Fun Ghoul?" the Girl whispered.  </p><p>Poison glanced over their shoulder and caught Ghoul lingering in the doorway.  They smiled, just a little, and said, "She's right there, sweetheart."</p><p>Ghoul mustered up a smile of her own when the Girl craned to see her, lifting her hand in a wave.   The Girl sank back, satisfied, and asked instead, "Where's Kobra Kid?"</p><p>She knew it was coming but it stole her breath anyways.  In Bat City.  Gone.  Somewhere better.  In the silence that followed, Ghoul wondered what Poison would say. </p><p>"He went somewhere with the Phoenix Witch," said Party Poison at last, and Ghoul turned away so that she would not see the devastation in their eyes, nor they in hers.</p><p>The sun had set as she slept, and Ghoul stepped outside to the bite of the desert night.  </p><p>The Trans Am was where they'd left it, but Jet Star was crashed out in the back, scrunched up to fit their gangly limbs in the backseat.  They probably hadn't slept much, watching over the Girl with the doc.  Their face was pale and drawn, their eyes sunken in.  Ghoul left them be and headed out into the desert on foot.</p><p>Maybe that was a bad idea, because that left her with only her thoughts, which did not make for good company.  Considering that she got good company killed, maybe that wasn't a bad thing.  </p><p>That wasn't a very logical jump but her mind made it anyway, and her already sore eyes stung anew.  She scrubbed at them angrily but the tears welled up anyways, blurring her vision until she stopped walking and just stood, swaying slightly, in the middle of the sand and scrub and buried her face in her elbows. </p><p>She huffed out a breath and it came out ragged, a sob caught in her throat because Kobra Kid was gone.  Kobra Kid was dead, and she'd ruined the Fabulous Four forever. </p><p>She didn't know how long she stayed there.  When the sharp ache in her chest grew too strong to contain, she closed her eyes and sank her teeth into her glove, where the meat of her thumb was, like putting pressure there could take away the guilt and the grief.  It didn't.  She held her breath and shook silently with her sobs, and little by little, she forced them back into the little box in the back of her mind and the tears stopped.  </p><p>She'd gone numb, standing there, but though her arms were icy to the touch and she shivered uncontrollably, she didn't feel the cold.  Not really.  She turned and stumbled on wooden legs back to Dr. D's house.  </p><p>She couldn't bring herself to go back in, not yet, in the house with the accusing shadows, so she went around back to the patio, leapt up on the railing, and used it to haul herself up onto the doc's roof.  Only after she turned away from the edge did she realize that another had gotten the same idea as she had.  </p><p>There was already someone up there, lying flat against the roof tiles with their jacket bundled up in a pillow beneath their neck.  Poison's hair, washed out under the pale moonlight, was still unmistakable. </p><p>She froze.  It was too late to climb back down.  Wordlessly, she settled with the shingles digging into her spine, their cold seeping in through her jacket.  She stared up at the swath of stars hanging above her in the sky and didn't think about what had happened in Bat City.</p><p>"When he fell," Party Poison's voice was low and rough, "did he have his mask?"</p><p>When he died, was he able to cross over peacefully?</p><p>Fun Ghoul blinked back the tears welling up in her eyes.  "Yeah," she said, and though her voice quavered, it didn't break.  "Yeah, he did."</p><p>"Good," said Poison, and they fell back into silence.  </p><p>And under that night sky with its swath of stars and crescent moon, with Party Poison an arms length away and Jet Star and the Girl in the house below, Ghoul had never felt more alone.</p><p> </p><p>The Girl didn't get better instantly, like the antibiotics were some sort of magic potion that could cure her miraculously.  She grew more skeletal before the sepsis retreated, and the doc warned that she couldn't be moved until she no longer needed the antibiotics.  That left Fun Ghoul, Jet Star, and Party Poison to haunt Dr. D's house and the surrounding desert like lost souls, orbiting the Girl while avoiding the other killjoys that dropped in on the doc.  </p><p>And avoiding each other. </p><p>Fun Ghoul wasn't sure if Party Poison was avoiding her, but she sure as hell was avoiding them.  Besides a more subdued demeanor, Jet Star didn't act any different, but even still, the Fabulous Four were the Trans Am with one wheel missing, lurching and unsteady and burning up even though they tried to keep going.  Unbalanced.  Volatile.</p><p>She overheard the doc talking to Poison about it one day, as she was leaving the room after keeping vigil at the Girl's bedside as she slept.  Their voices drifted from the front room into the hallway, and Ghoul paused, her hand on the handle to the back door.</p><p>"Now, I don't have a list drawn up for you yet," the doc was saying, "but we got a couple of -- "</p><p>"I'm not adding some stranger to the crew," Poison interrupted with a bite of real anger.  "We're not replacing my brother."</p><p>"Not saying you should replace him, kid," said the doc, gruff.  "But you got the Girl to look after.  You're gonna need extra hands.  Three's not gonna cut it."</p><p>He was right.  Even if they did run missions as a trio, they couldn't leave the Girl behind alone, and some missions were too dangerous to bring her along.  </p><p>"I won't just slap you with anyone," the doc assured them gently when Poison didn't respond.  "Just keep an ear out for any loners drifting around or crews breaking up."</p><p>"Yeah," said Poison roughly at last.  "Yeah, okay.  Thanks, doc."</p><p>Fun Ghoul didn't stick around to listen any further.  She slipped out the back, bracing for the desert heat. </p><p>Jet Star was already out there, leaning against the wall in the shadow of the eaves with an opened can in hand.  "Hey," they said.  "She asleep?"</p><p>"Yeah," Ghoul answered.  "Read her a bit of <em> Watership Down </em>and she was out like a light."</p><p>Jet hummed.  Silently, he offered her the can.  It was warm, flat, and sickly sweet, cloying in her throat as she swallowed it down.  </p><p>It was strangely addicting.</p><p>She grimaced and handed it back to Jet.  "You been talking to the doc," she said.  "He say how much longer we gotta keep the Girl here?"</p><p>"He thinks the IV can come out in two days," they answered, peering down into the can as they swirled it.  "We can bring her home then."</p><p>Ghoul huffed out a relieved sigh.  She was getting antsy, staying away from the diner for so long.  The chance of some other crew claiming it grew the longer they were away, and though she was almost always down for a fight, Ghoul just wanted to sleep in her own bed-thing again.</p><p>The back door opened again and Ghoul nearly jumped out of her skin, whirling so she was halfway hiding behind Jet.  Party stuck their head out.  Ghoul hadn't seen them properly for the past week, so the sallowness of their skin and red, puffy eyes were new but not unexpected new developments.  "Hey, killjoys," they said, mustering a small smile.  "Team huddle?"</p><p>"Sure," said Jet, taking a long draw from their can.</p><p>Fun Ghoul wondered if it was too late to run.  She could take off into the desert and just die of thirst or heat stroke or let herself be irradiated to death by the sun.  Or find the nearest Drac nest and go out in a blaze of glory.  Any of those seemed infinitely more appealing. </p><p>But Poison didn't address her directly or even mention the raid at all, just, "Thought we could do a thing for Kobra Kid when we get the Girl back.  So she can say goodbye, too.  Have some drinks, drop by one of the mailboxes."  They shrugged.  "So, I guess if there's anything you wanna leave for him…"</p><p>"Yeah," said Jet, squinting to the horizon where the last of the sun sank into the ground.  "We got it."</p><p>Fun Ghoul nodded, not trusting herself to say anything.  Party didn't look too upset considering that they were basically talking about their brother's funeral -- they seemed neither sad nor angry, and that unnerved her.  Their tone was a little too casual, though, their forced cheer on the edge of manic.  </p><p>"Party Poison," said Jet Star, who was just as likely as Ghoul wasn't to nose around when things like emotions came up.  "You've been through a lot the past few days.  Everything all right with you?"</p><p>"Everything's fine," said Poison.  "The Girl's doing better and we're going home soon.  I'm gonna tune up the Trans Am while we're here so it'll be good as new."</p><p>"Maybe you should take a break," Jet suggested, scrutinizing them critically. </p><p>"I don't need a break, I'm good," Poison dismissed.  "The car's pulling left, and I wanna get that figured out before -- "</p><p>"Poison, you just lost your brother," said Jet, blunt but gentle.  "Give yourself time to rest -- "</p><p>"I <em> know </em> we just lost him, otherwise he'd be the one doing the tune-up -- "</p><p>" -- it's okay to grieve -- "</p><p>" -- I don't need you to tell me what I can or can't do, Jet -- "</p><p>"-- you don't have to pretend you're okay -- "</p><p>"Well, I'm not okay," Poison exploded, getting up in Jet Star's face.  "I'm not okay.  I'm not o<em> -fucking- </em>kay!  Is that what you want to hear?"</p><p>"No," said Jet Star, suddenly looking far too tired for their age.  </p><p>Party wasn't interested in Jet's cryptics.  With a growl, they lashed out at the stack of old car parts Dr. D kept in the back and sent metal scraps and tools flying, spun on their heel, and stormed out into the desert.</p><p>Ghoul watched them go with studied apathy. "Good talk," she said sarcastically after a moment.</p><p>Jet Star pinched the bridge of their nose and turned away.</p><p> </p><p>The Girl was awake, playing with a couple figurines the doc'd had lying around.  The paint had long since rubbed off, leaving them blank and featureless, but the Girl had used some markers to draw masks on the faces. </p><p>"Hey, punk," said Fun Ghoul, leaning against the doorway with her arms crossed.  The Girl looked up with a grin, as she always did when Ghoul called her that.  "You ready to bust outta here?"</p><p>"Yeah!" chirped the Girl, abandoning the toys and scrambling off the bed.  The IV'd come out the day before, but the puffy red scar it left in her elbow still remained.  "We're going home?"</p><p>"Yeah, punk," Ghoul said, and as she turned on her heel, a small hand slid into hers.  "Doc says you're free to go so long as you keep taking your meds."</p><p>"Wicked," was the Girl's enthusiastic response, and she skipped ahead.</p><p>But by the time she reached the front door, her energy flagged.  She was still shaky -- she hadn't done much walking since her recovery besides slow laps around the doc's house, and Fun Ghoul could tell even this little excitement was too much for her.</p><p>"Hey," Ghoul said, and squatted in front of the Girl.  "Hop on.  I'll carry you out."</p><p>The Girl wavered.  She flung her arms around Fun Ghoul's neck, and Ghoul groaned theatrically as she stood.  "You're getting big," she joked, and didn't think about how light the Girl was for her age, or how her bony joints jabbed into Ghoul's ribcage.</p><p>The Girl smothered a giggle against her neck.  "Away!" she declared solemnly, pointing out the door.  </p><p>"Away," Ghoul agreed, spinning them once, carefully, before stepping out under the blistering sun.</p><p>Jet was already in the Trans Am, kicked back in shotgun with a lazy eye on the horizon. "There's my favourite killjoy," they said, turning back to flash the Girl a smile as Ghoul ungracefully deposited her in the back seat.</p><p><em> "I'm </em>your favourite killjoy," Ghoul huffed with mock offense, and pretended not to see the wink Jet shot the Girl.  </p><p>Crimson bobbed in the sun as Party jogged towards the car.  "All right," they said as they swung open the driver's side door and threw themself in.  "Who's ready to go home?"</p><p>Ghoul expected home to be in pretty bad shape when they got back -- they'd left suddenly, the clothes and towels soiled with the Girl's vomit left behind hurriedly to soak in the sink, buckets of acid rain from the leaks scattered on the floor.  But the diner was about as clean as it ever got -- grime caked in the caulking between floor tiles, but no trash on the floor, acid rain buckets emptied and stacked back in their corner, the smell of the desert hanging in the air instead of sweet-sour vomit or the harsh stench of cleaning chemicals. </p><p>No way was Poison in the frame of mind to pull this off in between everything.  She glanced back at Jet Star, who shrugged and kind of grimaced.</p><p>"Just cleaned a little," they said.  "Didn't want her to come back to a mess."</p><p>That was true.  Neither Ghoul nor Poison would have thought of that.</p><p>The Girl had fallen asleep during the car ride.  Poison carried her in cradled in their arms, her head resting on their chest, but she stirred as soon as they stepped into the diner.  She squirmed, and Poison said, "Slow down there, Miss Rocket," before setting her firmly on her feet.</p><p>"Can I have some apple-water?" the Girl asked hopefully, sliding into the nearest booth.  </p><p>"Yeah, sure," said Poison, but before they could return with it, the Girl laid her head down to rest on the table and fell asleep.</p><p>Ghoul and Jet settled at an adjacent table, and Ghoul slumped against the back of her seat.  Poison joined them with the Girl's apple-water when they noticed she had fallen asleep.  "I can watch her for a bit if you guys want to rest," they offered after a moment.  Ghoul suspected they wouldn't be able to take their eyes off her until the morning, at least.</p><p> "Yeah, all right," said Ghoul.  She pushed off and made for the door, and behind her, Jet said, “I’ll start dinner.”</p><p>The afternoon sun blazed overhead, and she shaded her eyes as she tromped across the crumbling parking lot to the mechanic shop.  She needed something to bring for Kobra Kid because she sure as hell wasn’t going to show up empty-handed.  Poison’d probably rustle up something from their childhood to leave Kobra, and Jet was quietly good at all the sentimental shit so they were probably covered.  The Girl would draw a picture to go with her letter.</p><p>The shade of the garage gave only a small respite from the heat.  The middle of the floor was clear even if there was shit shoved up against the walls, so she didn't trip even though she was still sun-blind from the outside.  Kobra Kid and Party Poison spent the most time out here, usually working on the Trans Am.  Fun Ghoul had a corner in the back where she tinkered, and apart from her shelves of tools and scrap material, she had a drawer in the shared cupboard.</p><p>Fun Ghoul dug through her drawer of shit.  There wasn't much; none of them had much that wasn't useful.  A pair of broken sunglasses she'd been meaning to wire back together.  A pile of mostly-used lighters.  A set of extra knives from Party.  A roll of aluminum foil.  Flashlights, including one with a heavy metal casing that Jet'd given to her.  And a multitool Kobra Kid had given her in the first months they'd all begun living together. </p><p>The multitool.  He'd tossed it to her on a mission, when her pliers broke and she needed to make the fuse box short-circuit so they could escape.  It was battered and bright yellow with a bunch of stick figures in sunglasses and motorcycle helmets drawn on the handle in black marker.  One side read <em> LM </em> and the other, <em> AO. </em>   He wouldn't take it when she tried to give it back after the mission, just held his hands up and said, <em> I, uh, I think you're gonna need a bit of extra luck.  And tools that ain't gonna break.  </em>And then he’d smiled, slight and shy, for the first time since she'd met him.</p><p>It was the most Kobra Kid thing she owned.  Now, he needed it more than her for his soul to be at peace, and yet.</p><p>She didn’t want to drop the fucking multitool in the fucking mailbox for the fucking Phoenix Witch to pick up.  Because when Fun Ghoul sent this back to Kobra Kid, she’d have nothing left of him at all. </p><p> </p><p>In the evening, Fun Ghoul stacked cans of beer from the fridge on the counter.  Jet looked at the cans, looked at Ghoul, and said, "We only need four of those."</p><p>"You, me, Kobra, Poison, and the Girl," Ghoul pointed out, glancing over her shoulder.  She was trying not to think about the number of times left that she'd be able to include Kobra Kid.  "Five."</p><p>"The Girl doesn't need one," retorted Jet Star.  "Four."</p><p>"She's a killjoy.  This is a killjoy goodbye," Fun Ghoul argued.  "She needs one too."</p><p>"She's six," said Jet Star, unimpressed.  "I don't care if she's a killjoy.  She's not getting a beer."</p><p>So three of them popped cans from the fridge and the Girl had a dusty bottle of root beer of mysterious origin that Party Poison had found rolling around behind the lockers somewhere.  They all piled into the Trans Am and realized belatedly that maybe they should have waited to open the cans until they actually got to the mailbox. </p><p>The Girl screwed the cap back on her bottle.  The rest of them watched her with envy.</p><p>“Whatever,” Poison Party mumbled under their breath, took a long pull from their can, and stashed the rest in the cupholder.  “He’ll fucking understand.”</p><p>Fun Ghoul grimaced and covered the open top of hers with her palm.  </p><p>They pulled up at the mailbox just as the sun hit the horizon, spilling crimson and gold across the desert wasteland.  It was about as beautiful as it got in a place where staying outside could actually kill you, and with the sunset the day’s heat was slowly dissipating.  </p><p>Fun Ghoul licked the beer off her hand and wiped her hand on her pants.  </p><p>“Does that taste good?” the Girl piped up, peering curiously at Ghoul’s can.</p><p>“No,” said Ghoul.  “Like kibble, but wet.  And bitter.  Tastes like how gasoline smells.”</p><p>The Girl wrinkled her nose.  “Why’re you drinking it?”</p><p>Ghoul gave her can a long, regretful stare.  As much as she wanted to, she wasn’t going to tell the Girl about alcohol -- she was pretty sure Poison was going to be that one.  “I dunno.  I gotta.  It’s a grown-up thing, I guess.”</p><p>A <em> grown-up </em>thing.  Disgusting.  </p><p>“Allright killjoys,” said Party Poison, drawing their attention as they stood next to the mailbox.  Silhouetted against the horizon, Ghoul couldn’t see much of their face save shadows.  </p><p>Their shoulders were set, but they looked frail.  Their hair blazed under the light of the dying daylight, but the strands were tangled and oily.  Ghoul's heart ached at the sight and she wondered furiously why Party was the one making her feel like shit when Kobra Kid was the one who was dead.</p><p>Party Poison went on.  “You know this already, but -- we lost one of our own six days ago.  He was bold, a terrible fucking shot, and a kickass fighter; a true killjoy and the best brother I could have asked for.”  Their voice wavered, and they cleared their throat only to pause for a moment, then tried and stopped again.  The pause this time was longer, more raw.  More difficult to watch. </p><p>Ghoul bit down harshly on the inside of her cheek to stop the tears that threatened to swell, kept her jaw clenched when the Girl glanced up at her in confusion.</p><p>“Kobra Kid,” said Party, and huffed out a half-sob, half-laugh.  “I’ll miss you.  Fuck!” they lashed out at the mailbox, denting the metal with a kick.  Abruptly, they turned on their heel, striding out into the desert and leaving the rest of them standing before the lonely mailbox.</p><p>“They’re just sad, hun,” said Jet Star when the Girl drew back in alarm.  They draped an arm around her shoulder and tugged her close with one arm.  “They’re hurtin’ cause they aren’t gonna see Kobra Kid any more.”</p><p>“Why not?” whispered the Girl, clutching Jet Star’s jacket in one hand with the envelope addressed in her shaky handwriting to Kobra Kid in the other.  “I wanna see him again too.”</p><p>“He’s gone away, girlie,” said Jet, meeting Ghoul’s eyes over the Girl’s head.  Ghoul grimaced and turned away.  “With the Phoenix Witch, remember?  Go on and send your letter to him, darling, like you send letters to your mother.”   </p><p>She was clearly reluctant but went anyways, leaving her bottle with Jet Star so she could reach up and drop the letter in.  The Girl came back subdued, going straight for Jet’s hand.  “Now what?” she asked, clutching them tight.  </p><p>Jet Star gave her back her bottle.  “Now, you drink your root beer and you think about all the times Kobra Kid made you happy,” they said, and carded their now-free hand in the Girl’s hair.  “Think you can do that, girlie?”</p><p>“Yeah,” said the Girl, standing a little straighter even as she sniffled.  “I can do that.  I remember a lot of those times.”  </p><p>Fun Ghoul went next.  Her hand closed around the multitool in her pocket as she stepped forward.  She opened the lid, dropped the tool in without fanfare, and pretended it didn't hurt like hell to feel it leave her fingertips.  </p><p>Fucking Kobra Kid.  The awkward gangly kid who drew florid dicks on BL/ind property and could barely shoot the side of a house with a ray gun.  The buddy Fun Ghoul hit up to take the Trans Am out to do donuts in the desert and speed runs along the dried up river banks.  The killjoy that cared so deeply for his sibling, for his crew, for the Girl that he would die for any of them -- and had.</p><p>"You're a goddamned moron," Fun Ghoul muttered aloud.  She swiped her sleeve across her eyes and retreated with her beer to an outcropping where she could watch the last of the light fade away. </p><p>She was the first to see Poison return, trudging back with sand dusting them head to toe.  They passed by without a word, and Ghoul didn't try to stop them.  She took her time with the last few swigs, and only after she'd drained the last drop did she push herself to her feet.</p><p>She was the last to rejoin the crew.  Party Poison'd been to the Trans Am and back, and now instead of their emptied can they held the unopened one.   They met Fun Ghoul's eyes and gave her a nod.  "This is it," they said.</p><p>"We hope your soul will be at peace," said Jet Star.</p><p>"We miss you," murmured the Girl.</p><p>Fun Ghoul swallowed hard.  "Thank you," she said, her voice rough.  <em> I love you.  </em>And, "Goodbye."</p><p>Party Poison dropped the can into the mailbox, and the lid swung shut after it.  There was a clang and a wet pop and the unmistakable sound of beer hissing from an opened can.  Poison froze. </p><p>The Girl looked at Party Poison.  Party Poison looked at Fun Ghoul.  Fun Ghoul looked at Jet Star, who was the oldest and therefore should be the wisest. </p><p>Jet Star said, “Uhh.  Well, the thought’s what matters.” </p><p> </p><p>And though Ghoul had been on crews before where killjoys got dusted, she'd never had a crew like the Fab Four. </p><p>There was a different cadence to their raids now.  Fun Ghoul used to find them -- for lack of a better description -- fun.  Wrecking the place, tearing down the fence, setting fires and tagging buildings.  But without Kobra Kid, Poison Party bared their teeth more than they smiled and Jet Star's laid back aura grew cold and calculating.  Fun Ghoul made IEDs with bigger, messier explosions, packed with extra gunpowder instead of paint bombs, because at night, she dreamt of Kobra Kid falling.</p><p>They were, in short, angrier.  Fiercer.  Almost vicious. </p><p>And still down a team member.  So after a couple smash-and-grabs, when the Girl had curled up in the back room for a midday nap, Party sat them all down at the table with a list of names from Dr. D.  </p><p>"Can't we just pick one randomly?" Fun Ghoul groused, frowning at the sheet.  She reached out and jabbed a finger halfway down the page.  "There.  That one."</p><p>"Numb Hand?" Party Poison wrinkled their nose.  "Nah, that guy's a loose cannon.  I've gone on a run with him before." </p><p>"We should pick someone on the more cautious side," Jet agreed.  They had the Girl to think about, after all.</p><p>But cautious was boring.  They needed someone who could at least patch the hole that Kobra Kid left, even if they would never be able to fill it entirely.  Fun Ghoul skimmed the list.  "Ooh, ooh, this one!  Glitter Goose.  Let's go with them."</p><p>Jet and Party both glanced at her.  "You know this one?" Jet prompted, puzzled.  </p><p>"Nope," Fun Ghoul chirped.  "They just have a cool name."</p><p>Jet Star sighed.  “We need to think about this rationally,” they said.  "Someone who would complement our skill sets."</p><p>The three of them stared at the list of names.  Fun Ghoul let her eyes slide out of focus, then back in, crossed them, uncrossed them --</p><p>“Whatever,” said Poison.  “We need more time.  I’ll tell the doc that none of these ones’ll work.”</p><p>[Traffic report doc d]</p><p> </p><p>“Doc’s got another prospect for us,” said Party after a particularly tough raid that left Jet Star teaching the Girl how to patch up ray gun burns with Fun Ghoul as an unwilling test subject.  “Neutral out in Zone 4.”</p><p>“A neutral?” Fun Ghoul said dubiously.  “I dunno if a neu -- ouch!  Mother -- ” Party glared at her, like a hypocrite “ -- flipping son of a peach!”</p><p>“Sorry,” said Jet Star, not sounding very sorry.  </p><p>The Girl peered up at her and said in a small voice, “Did that hurt a lot?”</p><p>It was a dark red burn that stretched from her wrist to the elbow, and Jet and the Girl were poking at it like it was cotton candy.  Of course it hurt.  She forced a smile and said, “Nah, not that bad.  Just caught me off-guard.”</p><p>Jet gave her a judgmental look, which she ignored.    </p><p>"He goes by Neon Hamburger," Poison continued.  "Wants to join up because his partner got dusted by BL/ind a couple months back."</p><p>"Months?" Jet said distractedly.  "What was he doing before now?"</p><p>A pause.  Ghoul glanced up from whatever the hell the Girl was smearing on her arm in time to see Party Poison grimace.  "The guy used to be a wavehead," Poison said. </p><p>"No," said Jet Star, frigid.  </p><p>Party narrowed their eyes. "Dr. D says he's a good shot.  Quiet, keeps to himself.  Doesn't seem like the type to cause trouble."</p><p>"He's a wavehead, of course he wouldn't," Jet retorted.  Then, to the Girl, "Tie this off securely.  It's gotta be tight."</p><p>Fun Ghoul bared her teeth as the Girl, to her credit, yanked the bandages together with all her strength.  “I thought we’re looking for the type to cause trouble,” she gritted out.  That’s what killjoys were about, after all. </p><p>Evidently, it was ‘ignore Fun Ghoul’ hours.  “We don’t pick up a fourth, the doc won’t give us anything big,” said Poison.  “S’long as this guy doesn’t shoot us in the back, he could be a scarecrow for all I care.” </p><p>“A scarecrow or, like, a S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W?”  Ghoul demanded, because that was a pretty big distinction.</p><p>Once again, she was ignored.  “We need a fourth we can trust, not some kooky wavehead who’ll be more useless than a sack of flour,” Jet snapped, snide. </p><p>“We won’t trust him with the important things,” Poison said, cutting a glance at the Girl, who was oblivious.  </p><p>“What, like leave him with the car?” drawled Jet.</p><p>“The car’s important,” muttered Poison, scowling.  “He can stand guard or something.”</p><p>"I don't like it," Jet said.  They checked the Girl's work with a quick tug and said, "Good work, princess."</p><p>"Ghoul," Poison turned to her.  "What's your take?"</p><p>"Oh," said Ghoul, dripping sarcasm.  "Are we listening to what Fun Ghoul thinks now?"  She batted her eyelashes sweetly at Poison, who crossed their arms and looked unimpressed. </p><p>"Yeah!" chirped the Girl, ruining the moment and Ghoul's spite.  "I wanna hear what Fun Ghoul thinks."  She beamed. </p><p>Fun Ghoul wanted big.  She didn't want to just deface, she wanted to destroy.  And if bringing some wet blanket neutral was the cost?  "Let's do it," she said with a feral grin.</p><p>Jet Star grimaced but didn't protest. </p><p>"I'll let the doc know," said Party.  "We can meet up with the guy and do an easy run just to try him out first."</p><p>"He have his own car?" Ghoul asked.  If they had to detour to pick him up every single mission, it could get tedious.  </p><p>"He's got a -- " Poison waved their hand vaguely, " -- a bike thing."</p><p>Jet and Ghoul exchanged glances.  "A bike?  Like a motorcycle?" Jet prompted.</p><p>"No, like a -- " Poison made some more vague motions.</p><p>"A bicycle?" Ghoul suggested, even more dubious.</p><p>Party shook their head.  "Like a scooter thing -- "</p><p>"A <em> moped?" </em>demanded Jet.</p><p>Party snapped their fingers triumphantly.  "That's the bitch."</p><p>Unbelievable.  "This guy's cruising the desert on a <em> moped?" </em>Ghoul said.  "How the hell has he not roasted alive?"</p><p>"What's a moped?" the Girl interjected.</p><p>"A smaller, sadder, slower motorcycle," said Party.  "It might fit in the trunk."  </p><p>Party was a hopeless optimist.  The moped did not fit in the trunk of the Trans Am.</p><p>"I guess we can leave it behind," said Neon Hamburger, sounding crestfallen.  "I'll just ride with you guys."  He seemed nice enough, even if his orange-and-black striped hair was louder than Poison's.</p><p>"It's just a tag job," Poison dismissed, as Jet and Ghoul struggled to lever the damn thing back out of the trunk.  They winked at Neon.  "In and out.  We'll have you back in no time."</p><p>That it was a tag job was the only reason Dr. D'd agreed to watch her for the afternoon, and the only reason any of them had agreed to let him watch her for the afternoon.  The Girl also needed a checkup, but none of them had actually told her that.  Good luck, doc.</p><p>"Shotgun," Jet said quickly, and Fun Ghoul snarled at them silently.  </p><p>She threw herself into the backseat and complained loudly, “Slide that seat back and I’ll stuff your mask up your ass.”</p><p>“You're a shrimp.  You don’t even need that much room,” Jet retorted.  Fun Ghoul kicked the back of their seat in retaliation. </p><p>Neon Hamburger dropped into the backseat next to her.  Fun Ghoul gave him an up and down and started the interrogation with, “What do you do?”</p><p>Neon Hamburger shrugged a shoulder.  “I shoot things,” he said, patting the muzzle of his ray gun.  It was orange, matching his hair.</p><p>Fun Ghoul huffed as Party Poison put the car in reverse.  “No shit.  Not fighting.  I mean, what do you tag?  Jet does fancy-ass words like <em> antiestablishmentarianism. </em>  Poison does little cartoon dudes sticking it to the Dracs.  Kobra -- ”  Kobra had liked to draw lorid penises everywhere.  She switched tracks abruptly  “So what d’you do?”</p><p>“Oh,” said Neon, staring out the window.  “I draw a -- a cat thing.”  He did not elaborate.  </p><p>“A cat thing,” said Ghoul.  “Cool.”  </p><p>She didn’t like him very much.  Kobra Kid was much cooler than this Hamburger guy.  She leaned over to sniff him as he gave her a very alarmed look: leather.  Sweat.  Nothing special.  </p><p>Their target was a little BL/ind outpost on the west side of Zone 5 that nobody really cared about.  Ghoul thought maybe they stuck the defective Dracs there to see if the desert’s radiation would fry whatever was left of their brains.  </p><p>Party Poison revved the car just outside the outer perimeter, hit the brakes and let the car skid to a stop in front of the main entrance with a screech of burning rubber.  Ghoul threw the door open before the car even came to a stop, launching herself out with her ray gun up and a knife at her fingertips.  She fired three shots in quick succession and came up in a crouch.</p><p>“You’re such a drama queen,” Jet Star muttered, stalking past the thoroughly blasted security pad to kick the gates open.  </p><p>Fun Ghoul blew off the tip of her ray gun.  “Three for three.  You’re just jealous that you can’t shoot this good.”  That was a bluff.  Jet just couldn’t be bothered to call her on it. </p><p>“Wow,” said Neon Hamburger, giving her a weird look as she stood.  </p><p>“C’mon, killjoys,” said Party, strolling past as the light glinted off their domino mask.  They threw their arms wide as they crossed into the compound.  "The world is ours."</p><p>Ghoul bared her teeth in a feral grin.  “Make some noise!” she whooped, sauntering after the rest of the crew.  She yanked the can of spray paint out of her pocket, flipped it in her hand casually.  Time to smash this place wide open.  </p><p>“You’re with me, gorgeous,” said Poison to Neon, jerking their chin towards the guard station.  They flashed Fun Ghoul a meaningful look: watch their back, keep her gun hot, and keep one eye on the new guy.  </p><p>She flashed him a two-fingered salute and went to find a nice piece of wall to deface.  </p><p>The others like to be all fancy and artsy -- Jet was already beginning some fancy jagged lettering that started with U-N-something -- but Fun Ghoul just liked making a mess.  It was about the colours, loud and obnoxious, and how they stained the grey cement and spilled across the ground.  She could make a good splatter with a paint IED but she was saving that stuff for a bigger job.</p><p>And.  Y’know.  Paint balloons were just classic.  </p><p>She hummed as she fished the sack of paint balloons out of her backpack and jogged backwards.  She pulled out the first, weighed it in her hand contemplatively, and hurled it at the ugly cement wall.  It exploded with a satisfying pop, spraying paint every which way, and she cackled gleefully.  She pitched a second, then a third, and crimson and orange joined the blue splatters.  </p><p>The sizzle-hiss of ray gun blasts distracted her, and she popped her head around the corner in time to see Neon take down a Drac charging at Poison.  Poison waved at the other killjoy, said something inaudible, and the two disappeared into the building.</p><p>They looked like they were fine. Ghoul had much more fun things to get back to.  Namely, the rest of her paint balloons.  </p><p>By the time Fun Ghoul switched from paint balloons to spray canister, Jet had finished their words: 'UNINDUSTRIALIZE', 'CAPITALISM' with the 'ITALISM' crossed out and replaced with 'SIZE', and 'ART GENOCIDE'.  She cupped a hand around her mouth and hollered across at them, "The hell is that?  You practicing your spelling?  Forget to eat a dictionary with your breakfast?"</p><p>Jet ignored her jabs.  Fun Ghoul stuck her tongue out at their back and turned back to her own work.  </p><p>It was big.  It was flashy.  It was colourful.  It was messy in all the right ways, uninhibited and uncontrolled.  It just needed the finishing touches -- she shook the canister in her hand.  She wasn't a great artist like Poison or Jet, but she could draw her own damn ghoul-y face symbol, bold in eye-searing green atop the mess of paint already on the wall.  She'd missed doing this kind of hit, where the real goal was to make chaos and stick it to BL/ind.</p><p>Still, it was weird.  To be tagging as three of the Fab Four.  Not having Kobra Kid and his collection of giant painted dicks and mumbled quips.  To have some guy called Neon Hamburger trying to fill the shoes he would never understand.  </p><p>To have lost Kobra Kid.  To know he was gone.  To know he was never coming back.  And the heavy chemical stench of the paint hit her especially hard at that moment, constricting her throat and blurring her vision and it was like she'd forgotten how to breathe --</p><p>The outpost alarm finally blared.  Ghoul almost dropped her paint and laughed at Jet when they did, swallowing back the panic and grief that had nearly overwhelmed her.  Sirens flashed overhead, piercing despite the broad daylight. </p><p>"Let's go," said Jet, and threw the rest of their supplies in their duffle.</p><p>Shouts echoed from across the yard, and Ghoul turned to see Party and Neon skidding out of the guardhouse, bulging packs in hand.  She took off running for the car, and Jet's footsteps thumped behind her as they followed. </p><p>"I'm driving!" Fun Ghoul announced gleefully, and made good on her claim by getting to the Trans Am first and hopping into the driver's seat before anyone could protest. </p><p>"Not a fucking scratch," Poison warned, slamming shut the passenger side door. </p><p>"No fucking promises," Ghoul shot back with relish.   Kobra could make this baby work, Party could make it purr, but Fun Ghoul could make it <em> dance. </em></p><p>"Uh, what does that mean?" Neon Hamburger demanded from behind. </p><p>“Don’t you worry, peaches, Ghoulie hasn’t crashed us yet,” Poison said without much conviction.  </p><p>"Oh, fuck," muttered Jet Star when they threw themself in the backseat.  "Is this really happening?"</p><p>Fun Ghoul was offended, really.  She was an excellent driver.  She only hit things when she wanted to.</p><p>The tires squealed as she gunned the engine, and the Trans Am peeled out of the compound and into the desert in a shower of dust and sand.  The air was thick with the smell of burning rubber and spray paint, and without her notice she was laughing with the exhilaration.  Fun Ghoul hadn't had this much fun since -- since the Girl got sick. </p><p>Something caught her eye in the rearview mirror.  "Hey," Ghoul cried, sticking her head out the window to squint back at the vague dust cloud.  "I think we got a tail!"</p><p>Poison yanked on her arm.  "I love you to death, but would you please pay attention before we crash and go up in a fireball?"</p><p>Fun Ghoul stuck out her tongue.  "Even if I did hit something, <em> which I wouldn't, </em> there's nothing out here but cacti."  She relented anyways, dropping back into her seat and flooring the gas pedal. </p><p>Poison clutched at the safety handle as the car leapt forwards.  Fun Ghoul pretended not to see.  She checked the rearview mirrors: beyond Neon's queasy face and Jet's grimly resigned stare, the shape of the thing chasing them resolved unmistakably into a motorcycle, racing out of the compound on their trail. Any details on the rider's helmet were concealed by the billowing dust and sand, but guessing he was wearing the Dracs' getup was an easy bet.</p><p>Strangely, no other vehicles pursued them.  Fun Ghoul decided not to question it -- this outpost was pretty useless, all things considered.  "We'll lose this sucker in Zone 6," she said, cheerful.</p><p>"Take it easy on the suspension," said Party with an edge of anxiety.</p><p>"I'm gonna hurl," said Neon.  Jet reached over and opened the window for him.</p><p>They didn't lose the motorcyclist in Zone 6.  They lost their pursuer much sooner than that.  Ghoul watched the tiny figure grow smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror before it disappeared entirely, left behind in the dust with the ruined fence of the outpost.  Whoever it was had given up.</p><p>Fun Ghoul wished they hadn't.  She wished the Drac had tried to run them down, to shower them with blasts from a ray gun as she wove the car between outcroppings and cacti, on the brink of spinning out of control or crashing, because this was the most alive she had felt in weeks.</p><p>Because she wanted this high to last, wanted to stretch out this moment longer and longer until it was all she remembered.  </p><p>Because the adrenaline would fade, and when it did, Kobra Kid would still be gone.</p><p> </p><p>Fun Ghoul was tinkering in the garage, trying to fix a couple of two-way radios so she could sell them at the next market day, when Party Poison scooted up onto her workbench and purred, “Hey there, baby, you’re looking ravishing tonight.” </p><p>Fun Ghoul could feel her smile come out as more of a grimace, and not because she looked exactly the same every day.  “What’s up?”</p><p>“Well…” Party leaned back so they could look at her from under their eyelashes.  “Show Pony’s finally back, got a little thing going on tonight.  Y’know.  Music, drinks.  You wanna swing by?”</p><p>Fun Ghoul frowned.  “What about the Girl?  You want to bring her?”</p><p>“Nah,” said Party.  “Jet Star’s staying back to finish a book they borrowed from Dr. D.  Says they’ll watch her.  It’ll just be you and me.”</p><p>Oh,” said Ghoul.  Just the two of them.  Before, she would have agreed without second thought and gone out to party with them as they always did, but now, 'just the two of them' was her and her best friend, the sibling of the guy she got killed.  What a great idea.  She gestured down at the gutted radios lamely.  “Maybe next time.”  </p><p>Party’s false cheer slipped for the barest second.  Ghoul gritted her teeth at the confusion and hurt in their eyes as she turned back to her circuitry.  It was better to focus on keeping them alive, to keep them at an arm's length.  Better not to ruin what she had with Poison, because if she lost them too, she knew she would never recover.  </p><p>They played it off with an easy shrug and a smile so genuine she almost believed it.  "Change your mind, you know where to find me," they said, and flashed her a wink as they scooted off the workbench.  "Don't work too hard tonight, Ghoulie, all work and no play'll rust your soul."  They sauntered out.  The door closed behind them with a click. </p><p>Ghoul set down her tools, lay her head on the table, and hated herself a little more.</p><p>But Party was, if nothing else, persistent.  And each time, it was harder to tell them no.  </p><p>“Poison thinks you’re mad at them,” Jet Star said one day without looking up from their book.</p><p>Ghoul dropped the detonator she’d brought into the diner to rewire and panicked for a split second before she remembered it was disabled.  “What?  Why?”  </p><p>Jet Star turned the page placidly.  "Because you've been avoiding them."  </p><p>“What?  Bull -- I haven’t been avoiding them,” Fun Ghoul retorted.  “We live together.  We eat together.  We’ve all done, like, five missions with the new guy by now.”</p><p>“Uh huh,” said Jet Star patiently.  “Yesterday you jumped into the bathtub when Poison walked past you, and when they asked you what you were doing, you said you felt dirty.”</p><p>Fun Ghoul flushed.  “I panicked, okay?  They surprised me.”</p><p>“They asked what you wanted for dinner and you said that you don’t eat.”</p><p>“I wasn’t hungry!”</p><p>“They wanted someone to pick up supplies with them and you said you were too busy watering the cacti.”</p><p>Fun Ghoul huffed.  “Okay, I can see how someone might mistakenly think that I’m avoiding them, but I’m really not.”  </p><p>Jet Star glanced past her, eyebrows raised.  “Oh, you’re not?  Hey, Poison.”</p><p>Fun Ghoul lurched to duck under the table.  She hit her knee on the table leg and her head on the underside of the table and threw a wild look over her shoulder.</p><p>There was no one there, because Jet Star was a rat bastard.  </p><p>“Very funny,” she snarled, hauling herself back into her seat with bad grace.  </p><p>“You’re avoiding Party Poison,” said Jet, unbothered.</p><p>“I’m not avoiding Party Poison,” Fun Ghoul snapped. </p><p>Fun Ghoul was definitely avoiding Party Poison.    </p><p> </p><p>The first time she saw it was during a raid.  It was Jet Star’s turn to raid the supplies for the kind of thing you couldn’t get from the crappy BL/ind vending machines so Fun Ghoul was making a beautiful mess of the back lot with Neon Hamburger while Party Poison took the Dracs on a wild goose chase through the scrublands in the Trans Am.</p><p>Neon was round the corner drawing his chubby orange cat-thing.  Fun Ghoul shook her canister in one hand to put the finishing touches on her mural of badly drawn dinosaurs rampaging on the wall and was just leaning in to taste the paint when she caught a glimpse of movement at the edge of her vision.</p><p>She whirled, hand hovering over her ray gun, because there shouldn’t have been anyone conscious left in the compound besides Jet.  But the figure was shorter than Jet, and the sun glanced off a helmet too brightly coloured to be a Drac's as they strode towards the front building.</p><p>It was Kobra Kid.</p><p>There shouldn't be any other killjoys here.  And it couldn't possibly be Kobra Kid because she'd seen him fall, but dread and hope rose and tangled in her throat.  They had his weird gait, the almost hesitant way he always walked that was halfway between aggressive and timid, the way he sort of ducked when he turned to look around.  </p><p>Fun Ghoul, as though drawn by a spell, took an unconscious step forward, then another.</p><p>“Hey.  Hey!” Neon Hamburger charged towards her, and with a start she noticed the familiar roar of the Trans Am's engine rapidly approaching, pursued by the hornet buzz of Drac motorcycles.  “Ghoul, what’re you doing?  We gotta go!”</p><p>“I --” Fun Ghoul whirled to look over her shoulder, but the figure was gone.  “Did you see that?”</p><p>“See what?  There’s nothing there,” Neon said.  “Come on, let’s go!” He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her in the other direction to meet Jet Star, and she was distracted enough that she let him.  </p><p>“Jet,” she said, half dazed, as she stumbled to a stop at the meeting point.  “Jet, is someone else here?  Who else came?”</p><p>“No one else came,” said Jet Star, puzzled, and shot a concerned glance at Neon.  “Ghoulie -- ”</p><p>“He’s here,” Fun Ghoul insisted, twisting around to look behind her, but for some reason, Neon wasn’t letting go of her wrist.  “I saw him, Jet, we gotta go back and get him -- ”</p><p>“Right,” said Jet Star.  They swooped down, grabbed Fun Ghoul around the middle, and hauled her over their shoulder as she shrieked.   </p><p>“Put me down!” she demanded, pounding ineffectual fists on their back as they took off into the desert.  “Put me the fuck down, it’s him.  It’s him, Jet!  We can't leave him!”</p><p>But Jet Star was stupid tall and a stone cold bastard and ignored her attempts to wriggle free.  The Trans Am skidded to a stop ahead of them in a billow of dust and sand, and from the backseat the Girl threw open the doors.   </p><p>Party took one look at the three of them, exchanged a glance with Jet, and said to the Girl, "Hop up front with me, girlie."</p><p>"Really?" said the Girl, voice torn between excitement and worry.</p><p>"Quicky," said Party, and the Girl threw herself into the front seat.</p><p>Jet Star dumped Ghoul into the car and slid in after her, blocking her attempts to lunge back out.  Neon Hamburger packed in on the other side, and Party Poison sent them hurtling back into the desert towards home. </p><p>Fun Ghoul was blindly furious.  She barely recognized the landscape blurring past.  "How could you?" she demanded.  "You just <em> left </em>him there, how could you?"</p><p>The Girl said, "Left who?" </p><p>Before Party Poison could finish saying, "No one, girlie, she's just confused -- " Fun Ghoul spat, "Kobra Kid!'</p><p>"Kobra Kid?" repeated the Girl with such dawning hope and eagerness that at that moment, like a shock of cold water, Fun Ghoul realized that she'd fucked up. </p><p>"No," said Party, unexpectedly hard.  "She's just confused, Girl.  Kobra Kid's gone."</p><p> </p><p>If Kobra Kid was gone, then why did Fun Ghoul keep seeing him?</p><p>He only ever showed up on missions and only ever when Fun Ghoul was alone.  He always wore the clothes he died in. </p><p>At first, he flitted at the corners of her vision.  He passed between buildings as she rounded corners.  Perched on the roof like a desert hawk when she looked up.  Watched her behind the windows or in their reflections.  </p><p>It drove her fucking crazy.  She had finally cracked in the fucking head.  And she knew the others could see her spiralling.  </p><p>She snuck out to lay on the roof at nights, staring up at the sky as the roof tiles dug into her spine until the cold had worked its way into her bones and she couldn’t feel her fingers.  She came down on stiff and aching joints when the dawn touched the horizon, because only then would she be tired enough to sleep.  She spent her waking hours tinkering in the garage when they didn’t run missions, because at least she could distract herself with what was firmly under her fingertips.</p><p>Because when they did run missions, he came closer.  He didn’t vanish now when she looked at him head on, was still there when she blinked or looked away and then back.  He showed up behind the others’ backs, walking past without so much as a twitch from Jet or Party or Neon, wandered close enough to her that if she tried, Fun Ghoul thought she could reach out and grab his arm.  </p><p>She didn’t, because she was afraid of what would happen if she did.</p><p> </p><p>It was a rare, rainy night, where the water falling from the clouds was clean enough to stand in if not to drink, and Fun Ghoul was soaked to the bone when she realized the terrible truth: she didn't see Kobra Kid hit the ground.  She saw him fall.  She didn’t see him land.  If his helmet got knocked off when -- when it happened, and he died without it, she would never know.  </p><p>She came to the obvious conclusion: Fun Ghoul was being fucking haunted by the ghost of Kobra Kid for letting him die, and honestly, she deserved it. </p><p>After this realization, he spoke to her for the first time.</p><p> </p><p>"You missed a spot."</p><p>Fun Ghoul had indeed left an entire corner of her wall blank because she'd forgotten to bring the extra paint she'd set out.  Apparently you started forgetting shit if you didn’t sleep a lot, who knew?  She glanced sideways at Kobra Kid, who was leaning against the adjacent wall, and said nothing. </p><p>Talking to ghosts was a crazy person thing, right?  And Fun Ghoul wasn't crazy.  Not that way.</p><p>"Oh shit.  Tell Party they need a haircut.  Like, bad."</p><p>“Hey, Ghoulie, d’you think the different paint colours have different flavours?”</p><p>“Ooh, draw a snake.  Snakes are great.”</p><p>“Damn, the new guy’s got nice boots.”</p><p> </p><p>Kobra Kid's ghost never took off his helmet. </p><p>“You used to be Fun,” he complained, long legs dangling over the edge of the building.  “Now you won’t even talk to me.”</p><p>Fun Ghoul glared at him.  “You’re either a ghost or my brain is making you up,” she growled.  “Why would I talk to you?”</p><p>She heard the smug smile in his voice when he said, “You just did.”</p><p>Fun Ghoul resisted the urge to hurl a paint canister at his stupid head.  “Fine,” she said.  “Tell me something only Kobra Kid would know that I know.  So I know you’re real.”</p><p>"If I'm a figment of your imagination, I'd know the answer anyways," Kobra Kid pointed out reasonably.  </p><p>"Shut up.  You don't get an opinion about this; you're dead," Fun Ghoul snapped, and immediately felt bad.  She didn’t talk to him again for the rest of the mission.  </p><p> </p><p>"The doc says the hallucinations are like a disease," Jet Star explained, who went to borrow books from Dr. D since Fun Ghoul had adamantly refused to go to the doc’s when nobody was actually bleeding out and she was still avoiding Party like the plague.  “You’re not actually seeing his ghost.” </p><p>"Great," said Fun Ghoul, kicked back in the diner booth.  She tossed her wires onto the table moodily.  "How do I make it stop?"</p><p>Jet Star shrugged, looking uncomfortable.  "Just...ignore it.  Doc thinks it'll go away by itself once you process the grief."</p><p>Ignore Kobra Kid?  As if.  He was about as easy to ignore as a ghost as he had been a person.  He was there on every mission, like it or not.  Once the comments started, they didn't stop.  At night, she watched him fall over and over again, and at the end of every mission, Fun Ghoul hopped in the Trans Am with the rest of the crew and drove away, and every time, it hurt like hell to leave Kobra Kid behind again.  </p><p>And Fun Ghoul was.  So fucking tired.   And angry and guilty and sad and she was out back behind the garage chasing the feeling of not feeling at all when she heard a footstep behind her.</p><p>Neon Hamburger was standing at the edge of the desert, hands in his pockets, and he looked exactly how she felt.  He hadn’t moved in, but he dropped by the diner now and then, spent an odd night over between missions.  “Who’d you lose?” he asked without preamble.</p><p>Ghoul narrowed her eyes at him.  “What?”</p><p>Neon shrugged.  “It’s pretty obvious.  The way the four of you move around each other.  You can tell there’s someone missing. And,” he gestured at the general fuck-all that Ghoul was doing.  “Well.”</p><p>Ghoul didn’t answer.</p><p>“Glow Beest,” said Neon with forced casualness, and in that, Ghoul could hear the frail grief, the yearning regret.  “They were the only one I ever had out here in the Zones.  BL/ind killed them.”</p><p>Of course.  The doc'd said that this guy had steered clear of the other killjoys until recently.  What else made a neutral wavehead get clean and take up the fight against BL/ind?  “Sorry,” said Ghoul, rough.  </p><p>Neon shrugged again like it wasn’t a big deal, but she could see the way it weighed on him.  "I see them sometimes," he said listlessly.  "Out in the desert.  Like if I go out just a little further I can reach them.  But I know they're not real."</p><p>The desert heat did that -- played tricks on the mind, made you see what you most wanted.  Fun Ghoul knew that; it was one of the first things anyone learned living in the Zones.  She gritted her teeth and looked away, counting her breaths carefully.</p><p>“Kobra Kid,” said Fun Ghoul at last, and her voice cracked like saying it out loud made it real.  “He died during a raid in Bat City.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fun Ghoul.  Hey, Ghoulie.”</p><p>Fun Ghoul brushed the hair out of her eyes impatiently with the back of her hand and ignored the ghost.  They were raiding as a team of three today.  Fun Ghoul was covering the front of the storage warehouse with bloody peace signs and ostensibly watching the car while Jet and Party went in.   </p><p>Kobra Kid sighed.  “Back to ignoring me again?  C’mon, Ghoulie, don’t you think you’re just avoiding the problem?”</p><p>Problem?  Fun Ghoul didn’t have a problem.  Except him, which was supposed to go away if she avoided it.</p><p>Suddenly, Kobra Kid was in her face, and she was staring back at herself in the reflection of his helmet’s visor.  “You know what I think?  I think you’re jealous.”</p><p>“Back off,” muttered Fun Ghoul, jerking away.  She’d never been jealous of him in her life.  Except for his jawline.  And his height.  And for having a sibling.  </p><p>Kobra Kid didn’t budge.  “I think you’re jealous that <em> I’m </em>dead and you’re not.”</p><p>Fun Ghoul snorted.  “Exactly how much of a whole idiot are you?  That makes no sense.”</p><p>“Doesn’t it?”  Kobra Kid leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms, smug.  “I don’t have shit to worry about now.  You’re the one who gets to deal with the sibling of the guy you got killed and BL/ind’s bullshit.”  He leaned forward and Fun Ghoul edged backwards.  “You’re afraid that you’ll live to see all the others die, too.”</p><p>Fun Ghoul bared her teeth.  She didn’t remember Kobra Kid being this much of a dick.  “I am <em> not </em>afraid to keep on living,” she snapped.</p><p>She could hear the smirk in his voice.  “No?  Better run, then.  I think the Dracs brought backup.”</p><p> </p><p>Eventually, inevitably, things went wrong.  The Fab Four had been one of the top killjoy crews, but BL/ind didn’t care that they were a limping shadow of what they had been.  Eventually, inevitably, they made a mistake.  </p><p>Fun Ghoul was too distracted.  Party Poison was too reckless.  Jet Star was too slow.  Neon Hamburger was too tired.  Whatever or whichever the reason, four of them went on the raid and three of them walked back out.</p><p>Fun Ghoul perched on the edge of the roof after sunset, still smarting in more than one way, and downed a beer as she watched the sky fade to purple to black.  </p><p>Neon Hamburger, the past week, had been spending more and more daylight hours out in the desert and talking to the rest of them less and less.  The guy’d been a wavehead.  Probably relapsed.  They only knew him for a few months, after all; they didn’t know him much at all.  And in the aftermath of her conversation with him about Glow Beest and Kobra Kid, Fun Ghoul thought maybe Neon Hamburger hadn’t wanted to make it out anyways.  </p><p>That didn't make it hurt any less.</p><p>Fun Ghoul didn't know what to do with the hurt, so she did the same thing she did when Kobra Kid died: she ran away.</p><p>Not, like, permanently.   But she was an hour's walk into the desert at night when she heard the familiar roar of the Trans Am's engine approaching.  She stopped, squinted into the headlights as the car pulled around in front of her.</p><p>The driver side door opened.  "Hey, gorgeous," said Party, stepping out and learning against the side of the car.  "Need a ride?"</p><p>Not tonight.  Not with Party Poison. </p><p>But it was gone midnight and she was miles from the diner.  The desert night had summoned its chill, and Ghoul's jacket wasn't enough to ward off its bite.</p><p>She kicked the closest rock to let off her frustration and instantly regretted it.  She turned and limped her way begrudgingly over to the Trans Am, but before she could get more than a few steps closer, Poison reached into the car and shut the engine off.   </p><p>Fun Ghoul froze.  This was a trap.</p><p>"We need to talk," said Party Poison, looking washed out and very determined in the dual cast of the headlights and the moon.   </p><p>Fun Ghoul bared her teeth.  "We talk all the time," she snapped.  "Let's just get back."</p><p>Poison slammed the car door shut.  Ghoul's glare intensified.  She crossed her arms.   </p><p>"Ghoulie, we can't keep doing this," said Party, tired and aggravated and sad.  "We lost another good killjoy today.  There's no pretending it didn't happen."</p><p>Fun Ghoul flapped a hand at the desert around them.  "I'm not," she scowled.  </p><p>"And you're not okay," they added. </p><p><em> "You're </em>not okay," Ghoul shot back.</p><p>Poison swallowed, their jaw tense.  "No," they admitted.  "But Ghoulie -- Kobra Kid's gone.  I know you don't want him to be, but -- but the Girl.  She's -- "</p><p>Fun Ghoul knew without them saying.  The Girl thought he might come back still.  Ghoul had inadvertently given her false hope, but Kobra Kid was dead and gone and not even at peace and he wasn't coming back.  His ghost tormented Fun Ghoul, and she'd dragged the Girl into its orbit as well and that was unacceptable.  "Yeah," she said.  "I know."  She huffed, half a laugh and half a sob.  "I just -- I see him during missions," she confessed, smiling with her jaw clenched so she wouldn't cry.</p><p>"I don't like seeing you like this," said Party gently.  "We're a team.  Let me help."</p><p>"I'm fine," Ghoul said, rough.   "Nothing I can't deal with."  Because she had to.  It was her burden; she had no choice.</p><p>Poison sighed, shoulders slumped.  "I know how you feel about me.  Trust me, I know I fucked up," they said, "I was thinking too hard about the medicine, and I know it's my fault that he's -- he's gone and I'm so fucking sorry that I left you two behind -- "</p><p>Ghoul socked them in the shoulder.  Hard.  "You dumbass!" she snapped in their shocked face.  "Why the fuck would you blame yourself?  I'm the one who let him fall!"</p><p>Poison Party paused and gave her a strange look.  Ghoul's ragged gasps filled the space between them.  "Did you think -- are you -- " they started softly.   "Is <em> that </em>why you've been avoiding me?"</p><p>Ghoul growled, stomping her foot and dashing away the tears that sprang to her eyes.  "No!" she snapped.  She saw the movement too late and wasn't fast enough to dodge when Poison pounced.  "Fuck you, get off me!" she spat, struggling to get free of their grip, but they were both taller and stronger than her and she didn't want to fight.  Not really.  </p><p>"I miss him," Party said, uncaring of the way she pushed against their shoulders and jabbed pointy elbows into their ribs.  "I miss him so fucking bad, but I would never blame you for what happened in there."</p><p>"Then you're an idiot," Fun Ghoul mumbled.  She gave up struggling, resting her forehead against their shoulder as they cradled the back of her head in one hand and held her tight, secure, comforting.  Ghoul took a long, shuddering breath, and then another and another.  Each came easier than the previous, and they stood together like that for an unknown while.  Neither of them mentioned the hot tears spilling down Party Poison's jacket front nor the ones dripping into Ghoul's hair.</p><p>This time, Fun Ghoul realized, the silence and the grief didn't feel quite as lonely. </p><p> </p><p>But it didn’t go away, either.  </p><p>Another BL/ind compound.  Fun Ghoul, crouched behind a stack of shipping crates, gritted her teeth at the roar of approaching motorcycles.  Blasts from ray guns ricocheted past, scorching the doorway that Jet Star was taking cover behind.  Kobra Kid’d been haunting her steps right up until they got ambushed, which was really fucking convenient of him.  </p><p>On the other side of the building, Party Poison returned fire, but they were pinned down too.  There were too many Dracs, and there were about to be more.  </p><p>“Hey,” she yelled behind her to Jet.  “I’m gonna run for the car.  Cover me!”</p><p>“No!” Jet shouted.  “You won’t make it.”  </p><p>Maybe not, but maybe Kobra Kid had been right that one time.  She’d rather die than watch Jet and Party be killed.  “Then I’ll be a decoy,” she retorted.  “Just get ready to run!”</p><p>The backup on motorcycles was almost there, and then it'd be too late; Fun Ghoul could hear the tires screeching on the pavement.  She stuck her head around the side of the crates to get a good look and then caught her breath, her heart in her throat, because <em> that was Kobra Kid </em>on a dirtbike, swerving between the clusters of Dracs and swinging a pole like a demented knight on metal horseback.    </p><p>Jet Star swept her up by the elbow and then they were running, stumbling as they sprinted for the fence together.  </p><p>“Jet!” she said desperately, because this couldn’t be a hallucination.  Not this.  “Jet, do you see him?”</p><p>“I see him.  Hard to miss,” Jet grunted.  “I don’t know who the hell that is, but let’s get out first.”</p><p>Don’t know who that hell -- Fun Ghoul jerked back around.  It was still Kobra Kid, spinning the bike on its front wheel and tearing forward again to scatter the Dracs.  But then she blinked and the helmet was red, not yellow, angular in the front with a blank, mirrored visor, and the leather jacket was a stark cerulean.</p><p>Her heart dropped, and she nearly stopped in her tracks.  </p><p>It wasn’t Kobra Kid.</p><p>It wasn’t Kobra Kid. </p><p>“Doc says it was a newish killjoy,” Party said over dinner.  “Skittish.  Definitely hitting BL/ind sites, but not too interested in hanging out with other killjoys."  They were the one who had prepared dinner, so it was basically canned kibble, but on plates instead of straight out of the can.  </p><p>"And, what," Ghoul drawled, pretending like the confirmation that <em> hey, she actually </em> was <em> cracked in the head, good for her, </em>didn’t hurt.  "Doc think he's gonna keep raiding our raids?"</p><p>“Hard to say,” said Party Poison, frowning down at the kibble.  “Guy’s not talking to anyone else.  Who knows what they’re going to do next?”</p><p>Fun Ghoul cracked a grin, because it was better than the alternative.  “I really thought it was Kobra Kid,” she admitted.  “Dunno why I thought he’d ride a dirtbike, but when I first saw them….I don’t know.  It really looked like him.”</p><p>Party and Jet exchanged glances.  “You still see him?” Jet asked cautiously.  “It’s been -- it’s been nearly three months, Ghoul.”  </p><p>“I know that,” Ghoul retorted, and resisted the urge to hurl her plate against the far wall.  It couldn’t have been long until midnight, and the Girl was already asleep in the back room.  “I dunno why.  It’s not like I <em> want </em>him to haunt me.”</p><p>“It’s your memory that’s haunting you,” Jet pointed out as Party looked down, their face unreadable.  “You’re still blaming yourself.”</p><p>How could she not?  She laughed, bitter and a little crazy.  “Yeah?  Every mission we go on, I leave him behind.  Over and over and fucking over again.”</p><p>“You’re not letting him go,” said Jet gently.  “There’s nothing you could have done.  But now, you have to let him go.”</p><p>It sounded so fucking simple, didn’t it?  Just let him go.  If she only stopped missing him, he wouldn’t haunt her anymore.  </p><p>But before that, there was another ghost she needed to banish, and it wasn’t hers.</p><p>She waited until Party and Jet took off to pick up supplies and talk to Dr. D about something or another that she didn’t particularly care about, then went to find the Girl.  “Hey, punk,” she said, when she came across the Girl in the auto shop, doodling on a piece of paper.  It was a family picture -- the Fab Four and the Girl, holding hands under the desert sun.  Fun Ghoul’s heart clenched. “Whatcha up to?”</p><p>“Hi,” said the Girl without looking up.  “‘M drawing.”</p><p>“Nice,” said Fun Ghoul.  She cleared her throat.  She wasn’t very good at this talking thing, so she went straight to the point.  “I’ve been confusing you,” she said, blunt.  “Sorry.  I know you miss him.”</p><p>The Girl’s crayon slipped from her fingers, and she wiped at her eyes with her sleeve.  “W-who?” she said, staring sightlessly down at her half-finished drawing.</p><p>“Kobra Kid,” Fun Ghoul said quietly as the Girl’s shoulders hunched.  “We all miss him, but Party Poison was right, Girlie.  He went with the Phoenix Witch and he’s not coming back.”  She hated watching the Girl cry.  She hated making the Girl cry even more.  She could feel the tears welling up at the back of her own eyes, but no matter how much this hurt, it was something she needed to do.</p><p>“He’s really gone, isn’t he?” whispered the Girl.  “He went to get me medicine when I was really sick and now he’s gone and won’t ever come back.”  </p><p>“Yeah, punk,” said Ghoul, soft.  “He did it to save you.”</p><p>The Girl sniffled, turning to throw herself against Ghoul and burying her face in Ghoul’s shirt.  “Why?” she demanded brokenly.</p><p>Because he was a killjoy.  Because he was a protector.  Because he fought fiercely and quietly for his family.  </p><p>Because he was Kobra Kid.  </p><p>“Because he loved you very much,” said Fun Ghoul, taking the Girl by the shoulders so she could look her in the eyes.  “We all do.  We’re always going to make sure we protect you.  You’re gonna be the one left standing.  Always.”</p><p>The Girl broke into fresh, silent sobs, ramming her face back into Ghoul’s chest, and Ghoul held her close, letting the Girl’s tears dampen her shirt without comment.  She carded her fingers through the Girl’s hair and watched the dust motes dance in the air, and even as her heart broke yet again, wondered if the stillness she felt was finally peace.  </p><p>The afternoon shadows darkened and elongated before the Girl heaved a deep, shuddering sigh and pulled back.  She looked up at Ghoul with bleary eyes and asked, “Can you teach me how to shoot?  Then you don’t need to protect me.  I can protect you instead!”</p><p>Giving a six-year-old a ray gun was a very bad idea, but Ghoul huffed a laugh.  “Yeah, punk, I’ll teach you how to shoot.”</p><p>It was worth it, even when Party Poison and Jet Star came back from their supply run to discover the Girl with a bright purple ray gun and what she’d -- they’d -- done to the cacti out back.   </p><p> </p><p>You learned some things when hitting BL/ind sites.  One of them was to never let the Dracs back you into a corner you couldn’t run from.  </p><p>Guess what Fun Ghoul, like a dumbass, did?</p><p>“In my defense,” she told Kobra Kid’s ghost, even though she wasn’t supposed to be talking to him anymore, “it looked like there was a way to get in.  They just cheated.”  </p><p>Meaning that the door was boarded shut, probably from the inside, and no amount of cursing or yanking or kicking would get the stupid thing open.  </p><p>Kobra Kid was on the other side of the roof, firing down over the edge at the Dracs on the ground, which was new.  Fun Ghoul wondered idly if the Dracs he shot would actually go down, but she was a little busy trying to find a place to jump off without breaking her neck.  The clatter of Drac boots against the metal ladder warned her that her time was almost up, and she eyed the distance to the next building over.   She looked down.  It was pretty far.     </p><p>Pfft.  Yeah, she could make it.  She broke into an abrupt sprint and launched herself off the edge as behind her, Kobra Kid said loudly, “What the <em> fuck -- ” </em>  </p><p>Fun Ghoul hit the opposite roof with a jarring thud.  She crashed onto her side and rolled onto her feet with a whoop, a feral grin on her face.  “Move it or lose it, ghost boy!” she yelled, and fired at the Drac heads poking up from the stairwell.</p><p>Fun Ghoul was shorter and closer to hell.  Kobra Kid had stupid gangly spaghetti legs, and also he was a figment of her imagination so he should have made the jump easily.  What actually happened was a ray gun blast caught him in the hip just as he leapt, and he cried out.  He hit the edge of the roof and scrabbled desperately to gain a handhold as he slipped.   </p><p>Figments of Fun Ghoul’s guilty brain should not be able to be shot by Dracs.  She froze.  “What are you doing?” she demanded, eyeing him warily.  Ray gun blasts hissed past her, but she couldn’t bring herself to move.  </p><p>“Uh, trying not to die?” said Kobra Kid, voice strained.  “Thanks for helping, by the way.”</p><p>It was exactly like that day in her memories.  It was exactly like her recurring nightmare.  Fun Ghoul’s stupid fucking brain had found a new way to torture her and it was fucking working.  </p><p>“No,” said Fun Ghoul resolutely.  “Fucking stop it.  You’re not real.”</p><p>“I feel pretty fucking real,” Kobra Kid snapped.  He reached up again, getting his fingertips of his other hand on the edge before snatching them off again when a blast hit too close to the roof tiles for comfort.  "Wanna give me a hand?"</p><p>“No!” snarled Fun Ghoul, because she knew exactly how this was going to happen -- the same way it happened every night in her dreams.  She reached.  His hand slipped through hers.  He fell. </p><p>“Help me!” Kobra Kid swore.  “Help me, damn it!”  </p><p>“I’m sorry,” she said, and her voice almost broke.  Maybe this was it.  Maybe this was how she found peace.  Maybe Fun Ghoul let him fall here and maybe this was how she forgave herself: by letting him go. </p><p>This was it: their final goodbye.  She watched Kobra Kid’s strength falter, watched his fingers slip one by one.  </p><p>He fell.</p><p>Fun Ghoul lunged and caught him. </p><p>She stared at his wrist, locked in the circle of her hand in an iron grip.  “What the fuck,” she said, shock and awe combined.  </p><p>“I’m so glad you changed your mind,” said Kobra Kid, dangling by that same wrist.  “But do you think you could pull me up now?”  </p><p>For lack of other options, Fun Ghoul hauled him up, and he collapsed on top of her in a pile of his stupid gangly limbs.  He really did feel real.  Then she was glad that he was there, because the far side of the compound lit up in a brilliant blast of gunpowder and paint, with a boom so loud she couldn’t hear herself think in the aftermath.  </p><p>She might have overdone that one.</p><p>Her hearing came back bit by bit.  She wriggled out from under the limp body and peered over the edge of the roof.  There was no movement.</p><p>She looked back at Kobra Kid and noticed for the first time that his jacket was blue, not red, and marred with black scorch marks, and neither was the crimson helmet familiar except for that one raid with that one killjoy on a dirtbike.  She felt a dull pang of disappointment, but no real surprise.  That she’d hallucinated that he was Kobra Kid was much more believable than her having rescued a ghost.</p><p>Not-Kobra Kid groaned and rolled over.  “Hey,” said Fun Ghoul, probably too loud.  “You okay?  Got your bell rung good.  Lemme take a look at your head.”</p><p>With great effort, the other killjoy pushed himself upright, resting his head on his knees for a moment.  Fun Ghoul waited.  Better not to take off another killjoy’s mask unless absolutely necessary. </p><p>Finally, he tugged off the helmet and dropped it at his side, turning to peer at her with dazed eyes.  Fun Ghoul stopped dead.  “Kobra Kid?” she whispered.  </p><p>And Kobra Kid -- because that was definitely Kobra Kid, even if his blond hair was a little shaggier and his skin a little tanner -- looked back at her with absolutely no recognition and said, "Who the fuck are you and why do you know my name?"</p><p> </p><p>.</p><p> </p><p>.</p><p> </p><p>.</p><p> </p><p>Here is what Fun Ghoul will never know and Kobra Kid will never remember: </p><p>The After was a whole lot of nothing.  Kobra Kid looked around and saw nothingness -- black and white at the same time, colourful and dull.  He looked down and where he should have been standing on solid ground was more nothing.  It was unnerving.  He decided not to look.</p><p>There was something watching him.  It felt vaguely female and entirely otherworldly and unfortunately reminded him of a very large and threatening vulture. </p><p>"Hi," he said.  "Uh.  'Sup?"</p><p>“I am the Phoenix Witch,” said the she-thing.  </p><p>“Uh, I’m Kobra Kid,” he said.  “Hi.  I think I should be dead?”</p><p>“You have died,” agreed the Phoenix Witch.  “Would you like to move on?”</p><p>It sounded to Kobra Kid more like a Move On than a move on.  “Do I have a choice?” he hedged.</p><p>He got the impression that the Phoenix Witch was smiling at him.  “I can return you to your life,” she offered, “but there is a cost.”</p><p>There was always a cost.  The Witch was waiting expectantly.  “Er, what’s that?”</p><p>"You may exchange that which equals the value of your soul," said the Phoenix Witch.  “Make an offer, and if it is acceptable, we will have a deal.”</p><p>Man.  If he’d known there was this sort of barter system in the afterlife, he’d have stuck something valuable in his pockets when he left for the raid.  Favourite hacking gadget or something.  Kobra Kid made a show of patting himself down and flipping his pockets inside out.  "I got nothing," he said apologetically. </p><p>"You do," she said patiently.  "That which equals the value of your soul.  It need not be a physical object."  When he stared at her blankly, she tipped her head and tapped meaningfully at the temple.  </p><p>Kobra Kid frowned, but eventually, understanding dawned.  "My memories," he said slowly.  "You want my memories?"</p><p>"They have shaped your soul into what it has become,'' explained the Phoenix Witch.  "What else could be equal to the worth of your soul itself?"</p><p>Kobra Kid faltered.  "All of them?" he asked, and it came out in a whisper.</p><p>"All the ones that matter.  But I will not take your name," the Phoenix Witch offered magnanimously.  Not forever."</p><p>All his memories.  </p><p>Growing up with Party Poison, needling Jet Star, messing around with Fun Ghoul.  The Girl.  The diner and the Trans Am.  Dr. D and the rest of the killjoys.  Tagging BL/ind warehouses and taking down Dracs.  Raiding Bat City.  Dying.  </p><p>All gone.  </p><p>Could he?  Was it worth it, to live without everything he had ever loved?</p><p>Kobra Kid swallowed and took a steadying breath.  “I offer my memories,” he said.</p><p>He definitely heard the Phoenix Witch smile as she said, “The offering is accepted.”</p><p> </p><p>He looked around and saw nothingness -- black and white at the same time, colourful and dull.  He looked down and where he should have been standing on solid ground was more nothing.  It was unnerving.  He decided not to look.</p><p>There was something watching him.  It felt vaguely female and entirely otherworldly and unfortunately reminded him of a very large and threatening vulture. </p><p>"Hi," he said.  "Uh.  'Sup?"</p><p>"Have a nice life," said the she-thing.  "I will see you again."</p><p>He blinked.  There was nothing. </p><p>He woke up.</p><p><br/>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Requests for this fic:<br/>1. THEY/THEM PARTY POISON<br/>2. SHE/HER FUN GHOUL<br/>3. TRANS KOBRA KID<br/>4. ENBY JET STAR<br/>5. AT LEAST ONE SCENE IN THE TRANS AM<br/>6. ANGST<br/>7. AT LEAST 3 MCR QUOTES<br/>8. FORESHADOWING PLZ<br/>9. PHOENIX WITCH CAMEO</p></blockquote></div></div>
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